Powerless
by Jaswinder
Summary: Bakura loses much more than a duel when Yami Malik defeats him a second time... Ryou x Bakura, genderbending, not shonen ai. Rated for swearing and adult themes. Complete and revised as of May 2010.
1. Prologue

**Author's Notes: **Oh man has this story been needing a good edit. I've gone through and fixed a bunch of typos and retconned one major thing -- Bakura now looks like a Thief King, but s/he still has the regular Bakura hair and bunny-horn-bat-wing-things.

Anyway, about this story. The pairing is Ryou x Bakura / tendershipping, but this isn't shonen-ai. I enjoy yaoi and shonen-ai but this isn't a shonen-ai story in the most literal sense of the term.

This is a genderbending fic, but it is not funny or silly or done for comedic effect nor in any way intended to reflect upon my attitudes towards women. Yami Malik makes Bakura **specifically, artificially** tiny and weak. The entire point of the penalty game is humiliation and if she was still a muscular amazon as I imagine a regular female Thief King would be I don't think it would've had quite the same effect. The whole moral of the story is inner strength despite your outward weaknesses and shortcomings or something sappy like that, and I hope I've made that clear enough in the course of telling it.

In a way, I've also gender-bent Ryou. I imagine him to be as tall as Joey and Tristan in this fic and similarly built rather than the tiny waif fanon usually has him as, as that's how he's drawn towards the end of the manga.

It is written in a combination of dub and manga canon, so I use dub names and explanations for nonsense etc, but Monster World still happened. Canon and I part ways when it comes to the end of Memory World because it was written before we knew how the original YGO series would end.

You can find loads of art and musings relating to this specific pairing at my livejournal, which is linked in my profile. If you've happened upon this story via the YGO Dressing Room, please enjoy Thistle and Nerf's backstory.

I appreciate every review I've recieved over the years and I'm always thrilled when someone enjoys this story since it is my most favorite thing I have ever written. I will be posting what I have of the sequel after I finish updating this one.

**Warnings**: There's one scene containing attempted rape and another with a spur of the moment suicide attempt. Both are averted. Bakura attempts to abuse Ryou several times but is never very successful.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_'Cause this life_

_Is too short_

_To live it just for you_

_But when you feel_

_So powerless_

_What are you gonna do?_

~Nelly Furtado, 'Powerless'

**Prologue **

It was a cool night.

The chill permeated the walls of the museum and sank into the smooth marble. Darkness came with it and hid the colors of gold sarcophagi and sandy rock, robbing them of all the warmth of their homeland. Skyscrapers illuminated the journey into the afterlife as the penetrating light of the city just outside threw the hieroglyphs into a sharp relief.

The only person in the museum didn't mind the morbid Egyptian symbols. Though they were as unreadable to him as anyone else, they were far more familiar. He didn't mind the cold, either. It reminded him that he was alive.

Again.

He stood outside the central exhibit, a huge stone tablet encased by glass. Seven distinct slots were wrought into its surface. Five of the spaces were filled.

The former king of thieves set his hand on the glass, having ducked under the red velvet ropes ringing the exhibit without a second thought. He stared at the golden Items, nestled firmly in their respective holes, and the stylized eyes of the relics gazed back. Part of his mind was uneasy at the lack of a sixth Item, knowing the seventh was securely around his own neck. But he had to admit that the stray Item was safe, despite its absence. As strange as it was to admit it, that was good enough for him, now.

Now that the Shadow Games were over, the Millennium Items could rest in peace. They had had many guardians and keepers over the millennia, and finally, the job was rightfully his.

With the Items in a final resting place, so were the ninety-nine lives that had been sacrificed at their creation. That was all he wanted when he first set out on his quest to avenge his town, centuries ago. Now, after the Pharaoh had stripped his soul of ages of corruption during their final confrontation, it was all he wanted again.

Bakura almost felt as though he should have died once his burning hatred and madness were swept away by the Pharaoh's penalty game. Instead, they were both reborn, given their ancient bodies again. Perhaps fate felt that the normal course of their lives had been upended by Shadow magic, and gave them a chance to continue what they had lost. Bakura didn't know, and he doubted the Pharaoh understood it completely either. He smirked.

Even if he was no longer the avatar of a dark god, he and the Pharaoh would always be rivals. No amount of magic could change that. He was still mistrusted and avoided by Yugi's friends, and the Pharaoh had made him vow with his blood to never misuse the power of his Millennium Ring, since he refused to part with it. He kept his oath.

Most of the time.

So what if he had sent the museum's guards to the Shadow Realm for a short visit? They'd wake within the hour and dismiss their experience as nothing more than a nightmare.

They had no right to keep him away. This was the closest thing he had to a sanctuary.

His landlord was a landlord in the true sense of the word, now, since he had been forced to take up residence with the boy he used to terrorize. That same landlord had been annoying him again, trying to get him to talk or play a game or something equally useless. The kid was still pitifully lonely, and Bakura refused to humor him, seeking out the solitude of the empty museum halls. He was loath to even share a name with the child.

The thief did not understand the boy. No matter how verbally abusive Bakura became, no matter how much food he tossed or how many things he broke or how standoffish and rude he was, Ryou still treated him like an honored guest. Bakura suspected the boy might still be scared of him, and he snorted. Good. Let him be scared. Ryou should learn that people have no use for quiet weaklings who all but throw themselves on the floor before others as eager doormats. Perhaps then he would grow a backbone.

Or was it just that the idea of someone being nice to him was so alien to Bakura that it confused and agitated him, making him uncomfortable and prone to snapping and stalking off to museums to brood? Was he worried that, without his darkness, he would become a soft-hearted sap like the Pharaoh if he didn't try his hardest to push Ryou away? Maybe _he_ was the one who was afraid …

Bakura bristled and quickly derailed that train of thought, muttering angrily and pulling his hand away from the cool glass. He wished he had brought his trench coat instead of just a blue short-sleeved shirt, but he had been in no state to remember something so rational when he stormed out of the apartment. Besides, he had only had this body a matter of months. Remembering things like keeping warm were concepts he had to relearn after an eon of being a spirit.

But he could never have anticipated that the temperature of the room would drop so suddenly, as though some sort of villainous force had just entered it. His back itched with the sensation that evil eyes were boring into it, but he brushed it off with a quick shake of his head. No one could sneak up on –

_CRASH!_

Bakura just barely leapt back in time, nearly getting tangled in the velvet ropes.

A piece of the tablet had been chipped by the impact, and glass littered the floor. The guilty rock tumbled to the bottom of the display.

Bakura whirled around to face the intruder, a snarl on his face, his Ring already glowing. Who dared to desecrate _his_ sanctuary?

A dark, bulky form strode on long legs as it approached him, obscured by a heavy cape. Dead, violet eyes glinted in the darkness, wild blond bangs falling before them.

"Well, if it isn't the spirit of the Ring," a low, amused voice murmured, "I'm glad to see you're still in one _piece_…I did wonder how you were doing after our last encounter."

Bakura growled as recognized the interloper, "I thought the Pharaoh defeated you, vermin—"

"He's defeated you several times, if I do recall correctly," the possessed Marik cut in with a sneer, tilting his head to the side, "but you're still here." His voice dropped, and he unexpectedly reached a hand out, gently brushing the slightly shorter thief's long bangs back and revealing the long scar sweeping over Bakura's right eye, "It's such a shame that you got rid of that pretty host of yours."

Bakura hissed and flung the Egyptian's hand away, mind racing for an explanation. Had Marik's dark side come back somehow and taken him over again, or did the closing of the Shadow Games give him his own body as well? Either way, he had no Millennium Item and he was without the centuries of practice and absorbed magic of the thief.

"I suggest you return to whatever dark pit you crawled out of," Bakura threatened, the Ring materializing outside his shirt, "You're still a weak manifestation or a weak mortal, and either way, you're powerless against me!"

"Please, allow me to differ."

Abruptly, he swung a broad arm at Bakura's head, taking the thief by surprise and causing him to stumble to the side. It had been a long time since anyone had attacked him _physically_.

He recovered quickly, though, and turned to face his assailant, his hand going for his cards…

But he was too late. Marik had already reached into the display and snatched the Millennium Rod, which was quickly set aglow. He held it out, pointing it at Bakura.

"Now, I think we already know what will happen if we go through this again," Marik chuckled, "Simply let me take what is rightfully mine, and I'll let you leave with your entire body this time."

Bakura's anger flared dangerously as the words hit a sore spot. "Don't you dare speak of having rights to the Items to _me!_" He pulled out his deck, "I am their guardian now, and I'm going to finish what that useless Pharaoh couldn't!"

Marik only seemed entertained by the outburst, shrugging nonchalantly. "If you insist."

"And you'll have no God Card to help you this time," Bakura smirked, shuffling his cards.

"Trust me, thief," Marik's eyes glistened with insanity, "I won't need it."

Bakura's lip twitched, and his smirk vanished. The shadows of the museum started to twist, coalescing around them in a cloud, and he tried to reassert himself, "When I crush you, boy, you'll be sent into the shadows for all eternity. There, I'm sure my monsters will have fun tearing you apart…"

Marik just laughed, his face splitting into a deranged grin. "I'm sure, tomb-robber." He snickered, before bobbing his head to the side in a morbid, inhuman gesture of curiosity, his tone shifting abruptly, "You like to talk about the weakness of others, don't you?"

Bakura didn't answer, his metaphorical hackles rising as the stage was set for the Shadow Game, something that never should have happened again. Just this one last time, Bakura assured himself, it was necessary to tie up this loose thread, to get rid of this nuisance once and for all…

"After I get through with you, thief," Marik continued, lowering his head and smiling mysteriously, "Well… let's just say you'll have no room to criticize them."

Bakura narrowed his eyes, and the duel began.


	2. Breathing

_I am hanging on to_

_Every word you say_

_And even if you don't wanna speak tonight_

_That's all right, all right with me_

_'Cause I want nothing more than _

_To sit outside your door and _

_Listen to you breathing_

_That's where I want to be..._

~Lifehouse, 'Breathing'

Ryou stared at the door. He hated waiting.

He quickly shook himself and tried to return his attention to his book. He was _not_ waiting, he reminded himself. He was reading. But his shoulders slumped in defeat as he realized he had been re-reading the same paragraph for the past ten minutes. He sighed, closing the book and setting it aside, his gaze wandering back over to the door, then at the clock.

Bakura had been gone for exactly three hours and fifteen minutes.

Ryou was disturbed that he had been keeping track of the time so closely. He couldn't help it, he argued internally; after all, whenever Bakura was gone, he could be off causing trouble, or getting himself _into_ trouble. And Ryou had the nagging suspicion his darker-half-turned-roommate was doing the latter.

Granted, Bakura couldn't cause as much trouble as he could when he was incorporeal. But even though he was now only human, more or less, and no longer an evil spirit fueled by darkness and hate, Bakura was still a thief and a miscreant at heart. He still bore a burning hatred of the Pharaoh and everyone associated with him, up to and including Ryou.

Ryou mulled over the past as he sank back into the couch. If he hated them so much, Ryou didn't really understand what kept him in Domino. He knew that Bakura had an odd attachment to the Millennium Items that he would explain to no one, though the Pharaoh seemed to understand. Maybe it was because he needed a place to sleep and Ryou was the only person who'd tolerate his presence; heck, he even tried to help him acclimate to the modern world. He kept the apartment clean, did all the chores and cooked all the meals. All things he had done when he was alone, but now he felt strangely like an unappreciated housewife.

He closed his eyes. He wasn't really complaining. Bakura's new human form was intimidating, of course, but somehow he had lost his terrifying edge and his sadistic manipulative streak. He was still a menace and an antisocial smart-mouth, but he no longer gave Ryou nightmares. He had even begun to translate the real meaning of some of Bakura's outbursts; tossing idle threats and insults was the thief's way of making friendly conversation, and informing Ryou just how much his food tasted like some manner of animal excrement was how he said he was hungry.

Ryou always just smiled and tried to ignore the verbal assault, partly since he knew Bakura didn't mean it, partly since his cool silence and happy expression would infuriate the thief than any retort. It stung, but it was attention, at least. He would take being called a spineless pretty-boy over the suffocating solitude he had endured before he moved to Domino any day.

Ryou had called his father and said that a friend was having family problems and asked to move in with him for an indefinite period of time. His father had no problem with it, once he was assured that Ryou's mysterious new roommate was not actually some girl he had met, something which Bakura's voice in the background had loudly and angrily confirmed. And if his father ever came home, well, Bakura would just have to leave or wear a hat to cover up the long white hair that was disturbingly similar to Ryou's own. Aside from their hair, there was no mistaking them, either in looks or personality.

They were like night and day… dark and light.

Ryou smiled faintly. Even if they no longer inhabited the same body, he still liked the analogy.

Maybe a little more than he should.

So every time Bakura disappeared, some part of Ryou was afraid he would not come back, like his father disappeared for months after walking out the door, like his mother and sister had disappeared forever one fateful day, like any friend he ever made before coming to Domino…

The sound of a door flying open broke the silence. Ryou jumped in surprise, snapping his head upwards at the sound. No sooner had he looked up than had the door to his apartment slammed again, and a streak of blue and white cut across living room, making a b-line for the hall.

"Bakura?" He asked stupidly, sitting up and watching his roommate stride very angrily and quickly to the other side of the apartment. A flash of white hair was visible to Ryou for a brief moment, before it disappeared into the bathroom. Ryou arrived at the door just in time to hear it lock, and he frowned. Bakura seemed angry, _actually_ angry, not just the snappish irritation that he always wore. Hesitantly, Ryou set his ear to the door.

There was an eerie silence. The only sound was thief catching his breath, presumably exhausted by storming the entire way home. A minute hadn't passed before he let out a strangely high-pitched, frustrated sound, accompanied by a loud thump. It was followed by repeated, increasingly frantic thuds, until there was finally the crack of broken glass.

Panicked, Ryou started jangling the doorknob. "What are you doing in there?"

"_Go away!_" Bakura shrieked from the other side of the door.

Ryou blinked.

Shrieked?

"Is something wrong with your voice?" Ryou wondered worriedly. He hadn't gotten a good look at Bakura, and suddenly imagined the thief being horribly injured in a fight or an accident –

Silence.

"Go. Away." The voice behind the door was slightly muffled, forced to its lowest octave. It was Bakura's voice, but it sounded strange, different somehow.

Ryou tried to think of some way to calm Bakura down, but he soon sighed in defeat. There would be no reasoning with the thief if he was in a mood. All he could do was hope that something serious hadn't happened, and that Bakura was just overreacting. He backed away from the bathroom wordlessly, heading towards the kitchen to make some coffee.

Whatever was going on, he had a feeling it would last all night, so he might as well consider sleep a lost cause.

xxxxxxx

It was a long time before Ryou heard the bathroom door open. He lifted his head up from the homework he had been doing halfheartedly, but another door slammed before he so much as caught a glimpse of the other boy. Frowning, he decided to use the opportunity to investigate the damage done in the bathroom, steeling himself against the blood he expected to find.

But there was none. He examined the floor. Bits of glass were scattered over the sink and some on the floor, but most of it was still clinging to the frame of the medicine cabinet door. The door was half open, and a package of wrap-bandages had been opened. A little cardboard cylinder was all that remained.

Dread rose in the back of Ryou's mind. What kind of injury did Bakura have that would require an entire roll of bandages? He quickly scanned the room, puzzled when he saw no blood, not even bloodied tissues in the trash bin. Almost sick with anxiety, he left the bathroom and headed for Bakura's room.

It used to be his father's bedroom, but it was so impersonal and unused that Ryou saw no reason Bakura couldn't sleep there. He respected the thief's space, and never went in the room, not even to clean it, lest he displace something and face Bakura's wrath. But right now, he had to know what happened.

He knocked on the door, since it was also locked. "Bakura? I know you're hurt, please, let me see, we might have to take you to the hospital –"

"_I said go away!_" An angry, nearly screeching voice exploded from somewhere behind the door, before quickly becoming quiet again.

Ryou sighed and closed his eyes. "Well, do you want anything to eat, at least?"

"Just leave me alone!" That odd voice snarled, familiar and yet distinctly different from anything Ryou had heard before. "I'm in no mood to deal with you, you worthless little idiot!"

Ryou sank back, slightly hurt. Who was he kidding? Of course it got to him when Bakura insulted him. But at least it indicated that Bakura was well enough to fling insults and curses. Maybe whatever happened wasn't that serious. Maybe the thief had just taken a sudden liking to bandages.

It was odd, though, because the previous times Bakura had come home after a scuffle, he refused to be treated at all, clearly of the mind that medicine or first aid were for weaklings like Ryou. Luckily, it seemed Bakura had been gifted with a durable body to compliment his reckless attitude, but it made Ryou's nerves fray. He didn't even know why he was so concerned with the thief's health. It wasn't something he wanted to think about.

"You can't stay in there forever, you know," Ryou told the door, and winced at the sound of what sounded like something breakable being thrown at it.

As always, Ryou was defeated by Bakura's stubbornness and his own instincts for self-preservation. He trudged into the kitchen and turned the oven on. Maybe making an impromptu dinner at… what was it, almost 1am? - would draw Bakura out of his room. He knew the thief hadn't had supper, so he must be hungry. At the very least, it'd hopefully distract Ryou from his thoughts…

But his hope was in vain. Something about his roommate's behavior was bothering him. Bakura didn't… well, _sulk_ unless he suffered some sort of humiliating defeat. He had brooded for days after the Pharaoh had finally bested him, becoming confrontational and standoffish to the point of being dangerous. It had been only recently, months after the fact, that Bakura had become what Ryou would consider amicable. That is, that Bakura snapped at Ryou and bit off his head instead of flat-out ignoring him.

Ryou set the pot of rice on the stove, trying to ignore the ethereal hand that seemed to be squeezing his heart painfully. He had worked hard to get Bakura's attention. The insults hurt, but at least someone was talking to him. With all their adventures over and all tournaments won, Yugi and his tight-knit group of friends had become minor celebrities, something that only brought them further away from Ryou. He couldn't be one of them; he wilted under the attention.

Yugi often noticed his friend's isolation and tried to point out that Ryou had shared in some of their unbelievable battles. A few people would shift their attention and ask him eager questions, and he couldn't answer. When they got bored of trying to draw him out of his shell, they went back to interrogating Yugi or one of his friends.

Ryou idly stirred the rice as his train of thought slowly chugged down random tracks in his mind, like it always did when he was in the kitchen. With little external stimuli, he had long ago taken up the habit of getting lost in his own thoughts, something that was easier now that he was alone in his head.

When he thought about it, he almost missed having another presence there, but he was glad Bakura had changed. Even he could not miss the nightmare force that had haunted him during that time. But at least, then, he felt like he had a purpose, like he was needed to protect Yugi and everyone else from his dark side. Instead of saving anyone, though, he had usually ended up the proverbial damsel in distress, always fainting, going missing, getting stabbed, winding up in the hospital…

He was alone because he was a useless burden that had to be carried by anyone that met him. He was nice, polite, shy, sensitive, and painfully alone. Weak. Boring.

He swallowed, his stirring hand becoming still. Bakura had called him the same plenty of times, but now he knew how true those words were. Just for once, he wanted to do something other than be the victim, but his quiet, unassertive nature all but doomed him to the role of Poor Pitiful Ryou.

Ryou furrowed his brow and fought back the stinging pain in the corner of his eyes, stirring a little more aggressively. Was he really that bad? Did Bakura just vocalize what everyone else really thought of him?

Maybe the whole reason he got so worked up over Bakura's well-being was that he desperately wanted to live out his fantasy that someone, in some small way, needed him.

He put the plate he had gotten for himself away, and took some Tupperware instead.

He wasn't hungry anymore, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about making Bakura breakfast in the morning.


	3. Unwell

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell_

_I know, right now you can't tell_

_But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see_

_A different side of me_

_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired_

_I know, right now you don't care_

_But soon enough you're gonna think of me_

_And how I used to be..._

~ Matchbox 20, 'Unwell'

_BRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinggg…_

Ryou rolled away from the sunlight and grumbled, fumbling for his alarm clock. He only succeeded in knocking it off his night stand, which put it out of his immediate reach. He groaned into his pillow before he sat up, holding his head.

"Shut up," he grumbled at the alarm, but it stubbornly ignored him. He managed to pull himself to his feet, leaning over to smack the off button, not bothering to pick it up, and trudged across the hall into the bathroom.

"Ow!" Ryou yelped, wincing as he remembered that the bathroom floor was littered with glass. "Ow, ow, ow…" He whimpered, sitting down in the hall and examining his foot, grimacing and looking away as he pulled a little shard out of his heel. Ryou stood and limped towards the living room, favoring his heel by walking on the ball of his foot and leaving a trail of red dots on the carpet, looking around for the dustpan.

Instead, he found Bakura.

The thief was curled up on the couch, concentrating intently on eating rice straight out of the plastic container. Ryou had long ago stopped being shocked by Bakura's lack of etiquette. He was just glad his roommate was using a fork.

What struck Ryou was the way Bakura was sitting; practically curled up, his knees drawn up to his chest, a far cry from his usual lazy, lounging, almost feline sprawl.

And he looked… smaller.

Ryou blinked and brought the heels of his feet back down to the floor, ignoring the pain.

No, Bakura still looked smaller.

The height of the body Bakura had been given was one of the things that had intimidated Ryou and further set them apart. Bakura's physical form was tall, dark, wild-haired and visibly scarred. Ryou was pale and his scars were far less dramatic. Bakura was muscular, broad-shouldered and wore daring, colorful clothes; Ryou had the complexion and physique of a boy who spent his free time reading and playing video games by himself. Bakura's eyes were a striking shade of almost red, and usually broiling with rage or darkened with cynicism. Ryou's eyes were the same gentle hazel they had always been.

Now those red eyes looked guarded, cloaking themselves in fury to hide a far less respectable emotion.

Fear…?

The thief finally noticed Ryou's confused expression, and lifted his gaze to glare at the other boy venomously, silently daring him to say something.

"Bakura, is it just me, or -- "

"_It's just you_," Bakura hissed quietly, red eyes blazing as he angrily took another bite of rice.

Ryou flinched at the tone, but even that couldn't keep him quiet. He _swore_ Bakura looked at least half the size he was supposed to be. "I hope you're not hurt too badly."

"'m _fine_," Bakura mumbled, something that made Ryou even more confused. It wasn't like Bakura to mumble. Though his voice was usually low and scathing, almost husky, it was always clear. Ryou could not imagine him becoming quiet, not unless he was deathly serious.

"But you used a whole roll of bandages," Ryou reminded him. Something unidentifiable flared in Bakura's eyes, and he moved as if to lunge off the couch. Ryou drew back, falling into a defensive posture, but no attack ever came. Bakura sank back into the couch cushions, tossing the emptied Tupperware to the side before he hugged his knees and set his face against his tightly folded arms. Only his furious eyes were visible, trained on Ryou and curtained by a collection of thin, messy, silvery bangs.

Ryou became quite unsettled when a part of his mind idly noted that Bakura looked… odd when he did that.

No, the word his internal voice had used was _pretty_…

Ryou's blood almost froze.

He never quite acknowledged the attraction he felt for his darker half, but it was a distant emotion. Bakura had the same menacing beauty as a panther, a wolf, a sleek shark; and like those creatures, he was best admired from afar.

But somehow, he seemed to have lost his cool, confident fierceness somewhere between now and the last time Ryou got a good look at him.

"What do you find… find so damn interesting, weakling?" Bakura growled, wheezing as if short of breath. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.

The strange voice snapped Ryou out of his thoughts, and he realized he had been staring. Startled, he shook his head sharply, flustered. "Nothing… I, uh… I have to get ready for school."

He managed to find the dustpan and limped back to the bathroom. He kneeled down to sweep up the shards, but his mind was elsewhere the entire time.

xxxxxxx

Ryou found school longer than usual. He was distracted, listening to his teacher's lecture halfheartedly, participating in the class only as much as was necessary. His head was in the clouds, his gaze distant, and his attention focused far away, but this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Something was different, though. He had an active mystery to puzzle over, rather than wandering down the same old tired, meandering trails his mind usually traveled. True, this wasn't the first time Bakura had come home in a mood, not the first time he had damaged a part of the apartment, not the first time he had growled and snapped and tossed things about. But something just felt… _off_ about the whole situation.

Something, somehow, was not as it should be.

Ryou couldn't say what that was, or how he knew. The only thing that really stood out was how the thief seemed so oddly small, but Ryou already doubted his memory, chalking it up to some sort of early morning, sleep-deprived hallucenation. But he had heard Bakura's voice at least somewhat clearly, despite how muffled it was between the thief's disturbingly shrill shouts. Was _that_ why he had been mumbling? Bakura's voice must have been altered somehow if he was trying to disguise it…

The lunch bell rang and scattered Ryou's thoughts. Dazed, he unloaded his things into his locker and made his way towards the cafeteria, grateful for the opportunity to think in peace. He spotted Yugi and the others with a passing glance, but paid them no more heed than he usually did until they walked up to him.

"Ryou, we need to talk," Yugi said, as seriously as his sweet voice could manage. Joey and Tristan flanked him on either side, while Tea hovered behind him. They all wore grave expressions, and Ryou frowned. That was never good.

"Yes, what can I help you with?" Ryou asked innocently, though in the back of his mind, he knew it had something to do with Bakura's latest antics. Ryou let an undetectable sigh of resignation escape. At the very least, maybe he'd find out what had caused Bakura's fit.

"Someone broke into the museum last night," Yugi said quietly, "The Millennium Rod is gone."

"What?" Ryou blinked stupidly at the news. The words failed to sink in.

"Yami… I mean, the Pharaoh's still out looking for clues, but, well," Yugi glanced to the side, "The guards reported a man with white hair came up to them and demanded to be let in. They refused, and before they knew it, they were having horrible nightmares…"

Dread settled into Ryou's chest. He didn't say a word, casting his eyes to the floor.

"You know anything about this, Ryou?" Joey asked in a tone that was friendly enough, but Ryou could hear suspicion in the blonde's voice, "That sounds an awful lot like… y'know… _him_."

Ryou almost smiled at Joey's refusal to speak Bakura's name, as if doing so might bring bad luck or summon the thief himself. They never called Bakura by name. It was always Tomb Robber, Thief, Keeper of the Ring, or just an ominous pronoun. It was a name they were too used to associating with Ryou, after all, and he had only recently convinced them to call him by his first name.

"Well, he was gone for a bit last night, but…" Ryou shook his head, "He… didn't have anything with him."

"Are you sure?" Yugi frowned, unconvinced. Ryou nodded automatically, and in the back of his mind he wondered why he was lying. He hadn't gotten more than a fleeting glance of Bakura, after all, and the other boy could very well have tucked the Rod somewhere.

They had every right to suspect Bakura, and Ryou had no reason to protect him. In fact, he should have been at the forefront of their investigation, should have jumped at a reason to persecute the former spirit. Bakura had wronged Ryou more than anyone else; he had terrorized and tormented him as a spirit. Even as a supposedly reformed mortal, he swore and cursed and taunted Ryou at every available opportunity. Why not take the chance to get back at him?

_Because he's there, and no one else is,_ a quiet voice reminded Ryou, from the back of his mind, _and if they catch him, they'll take him away, either to jail or the Shadow Realm. And you'll be all alone again … _

Ryou grimaced, but he shook himself and continued. "Besides, if he did want to return to thieving, why take just one? Why not all of them?"

"We don't have time to speculate. All we know that one of the most dangerous Items is gone," Yugi said urgently, "Please, when you get home, see if you can find out anything. You're the only one that can get close to him. I know he's dangerous, and he'll be even worse if he's up to something, but I don't think he would hurt you."

_Why not?_ Ryou wondered silently, but nodded.

Yugi let out a sigh, "If he is planning something, we have to stop him, soon. We can't let the Games start up again. Too many people were hurt last time…"

"I'll see what I can do," Ryou assured Yugi. "I'll go straight home after school." _Like always._

"Thanks, Ryou, I knew we could count on you," the short boy smiled at him. Yugi and his entourage left Ryou to his lunch, still searching for witnesses.

Ryou watched them go, before looking at the cafeteria's kitchen and dismissing it. He still wasn't hungry.

xxxxxx

As he made his way home, Ryou was torn between rushing home and taking his time. He wasn't eager to confront Bakura, but his curiosity was tormenting him. His rational side reminded him that Bakura might not even be home, but something in his gut told him the thief would be just where Ryou had left him.

Ryou quickly fumbled for the key to his apartment, unlocking it clumsily. He pushed open the door, looking around.

His gut was right.

Bakura was still curled up on the couch. One of his hands was clutching his forehead, pushing his frayed bangs up in several directions. He was staring down at his socks with one eye, and his other arm was around his knees. Ryou frowned, stopped dead in his tracks by the sight.

For all the world, Bakura looked… Ryou couldn't quite put a word to it. _Anxious? Depressed? Sick? _

_Unwell…_

Whatever his roommate was, he paid Ryou no heed, his blank gaze never faltering. Ryou's didn't either, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck as his eyes fell upon a wholly unfamiliar sight, a sight that indicated that something was very, very wrong.

From this angle, Ryou could see something he had missed in the morning; Bakura's shirt. It looked about three sizes too big, now, but that wasn't what was disturbing him.

It was the fact that the shirt was buttoned up, all the way to the collar.

In all the time Ryou had known Bakura, the thief seemed to firmly believe that buttons were there to be undone. Each time Bakura had taken over Ryou's body, the shirt he had been wearing was ripped open by the time the boy regained control. Every shirt Bakura had worn since getting his own body had been worn open and flared. He rarely bothered wearing a T-shirt underneath, if he opted for a top at all. The thief didn't possess an ounce of shame, always taking great pride in his appearance.

Until now.

Ryou's mind went spinning as it processed this revelation, adding to the mystery of Bakura's altered voice, and a change in size that he couldn't quite convince his mind, against all reason, to believe to be an illusion.

_It's getting into winter, and it is a little chilly. Remember, the last time he had a body, he lived in the desert. Maybe he's just cold,_ Ryou's internal skeptic suggested, putting a stop to his spiraling theories. He relaxed, shaking his head and heading to the kitchen. Though Bakura seemed oblivious to his presence, he wasn't about to gamble with his life just to see how long he could get away with his scrutinizing stare.

_Either way, he's acting strange. I'd almost say he looked guilty, but I doubt the self-proclaimed King of Thieves would suddenly feel bad about stealing something,_ Ryou mused as he set a kettle of water on the oven and switched the burner on. He tried not to wonder about anything too much as he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a mug, and after some consideration, got another. If he was going to ask a potentially dangerous question, he might as well try to placate Bakura beforehand. He sprinkled chocolate powder into the mugs, pouring hot water into both as soon as the kettle started whistling. After stirring each mug a few times, he picked up the cups and headed back to the main living area.

"Hey," Ryou greeted softly, looking down at Bakura's despondent form. A pair of harsh red eyes slowly shifted their gaze upward to face him. They were glaring slightly, but Ryou had come to think that Bakura's scowl was a permanent part of his features.

"Wha—…" Bakura paused to inhale, "What do you want." It wasn't a question. The tone was flat, lifeless and ragged. Ryou frowned, made even more confused as he watched Bakura close his eyes and struggle to breathe as discretely as possible. He decided not to mention it, and held out one of the mugs to the withdrawn thief. Bakura flicked his agitated gaze towards the offered cup for a moment, and then returned it to Ryou, unimpressed.

"It's hot chocolate," Ryou explained, before hesitantly adding, "You… You looked a little cold."

"I don't need anything," Bakura nearly wheezed, "Just go."

"Not until you take this," Ryou gently stood his ground, drawing upon a distant memory of the soft tone his mother used to get him to take medicine. Bakura's lip twitched. Ryou expected the mug to be swiftly snatched out of his hand, only to be surprised when he felt a weak jerk instead. Bakura looked at it distastefully for a moment, before giving in and taking a tentative sip. Ryou smiled faintly and sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

Bakura looked up immediately. "You said you were going to go!" he rasped accusingly, looking uneasy at Ryou's proximity.

"I will," Ryou held up a hand, "I just wanted to ask you about something first."

"Leave me alone!" Bakura snapped, his voice breaking and becoming shrill in the middle of the demand. Ryou blinked and stared at him with a wondering expression. Bakura seemed taken by surprised himself. A shaken look crossed over his features, before he quickly clamped his jaw shut to prevent another such outburst. He doubled his efforts at glaring at Ryou, as though his uneven voice was the other boy's fault.

Ryou tried to ignore it and continued, employing the most diplomatic tone he knew. "Listen, something happened at the museum. The Rod was stolen and… well, we -- Yugi and his friends -- need your help figuring out who did it."

Bakura's lips peeled back in a snarl, his shoulders arching defensively. "Like hell they do!" he spat, his fingers grasping the mug until his knuckles were white, "You think I stole it."

Ryou sighed, seeing that his efforts were already failing. "The guards did report having nightmares after an encounter with a strange white-haired man," he admitted, glancing away.

"So I took the guards out! I didn't steal anything, why would I?" Bakura's voice was becoming high-pitched again, and some detached part of Ryou's mind laughed at the fact the thief's voice reminded him of one of Mai's Harpy Ladies.

"Do I really need to answer that?" Ryou looked at his roommate with half-arched eyebrows, the slightest of smiles threatening on his lips. Bakura, however, was far from amused.

"Do I need to throw this cup of hot liquid at your damnable face?" Bakura retorted with fire in his eyes, and Ryou quickly held his hands up. When Bakura failed to scald him, he lowered them and continued.

"Okay, yes," he said, defeated, "You're the prime suspect as far as Yugi is concerned. But—"

"Pharaoh's _pet_ should learn when to keep his mouth shut," Bakura interrupted with an ominous growl, and Ryou waited for him to finish grumbling before he quietly finished his sentence.

"…but I don't think so."

"…eh?" Bakura looked at him incredulously, caught off-guard.

"I don't think so," Ryou repeated in a slightly more confident tone, "You've incriminated yourself, yes. I mean, you are an accomplished thief, known to lust after the Millennium Items, and you broke into the museum the night one of the Items disappeared. But… I don't think you did it. I have no idea who did, and maybe I'm just being naive or foolish or whatever you'd like to call me, but it doesn't make sense to me."

Bakura was silent. Ryou had the distant, tickling thought that maybe, just maybe, he had somehow touched the thief with his trust. Maybe if he showed Bakura trust when no one else did, he'd show Ryou kindness when no one else cared. Maybe he'd finally realize that it wouldn't be such an awful thing just to be friends--

But a sneering voice cut through Ryou's fantasies. "Any idiot could see that all the signs pointed to me. But you, Ryou, are a special kind of idiot to fail to see even that."

Ryou blinked a few times, before sinking back sadly. It felt like Bakura's words had lanced something in his chest. The pain wasn't so much from the insult, but the fact that his faith in the other boy had obviously been hopelessly misplaced.

He was almost too wounded to notice that Bakura had not been sneering at him, but at the floor.

"So… you took it?" Ryou nearly whispered, addressing his own lap. The only reply was a stretch of silence, before he heard Bakura adjusting his weight.

"…I didn't say that," the thief murmured.

Ryou lifted his head, a drop of hope trickling into his heart, and was ready to start asking questions again when his eyes fell on the cup Bakura held. He looked at his own mug, then back again.

They had identical cups, but somehow, Bakura's looked larger. As soon as he started looking, dozens of signs pointing to the fact that thief really _had_ somehow gotten smaller suddenly seemed painfully obvious. The shoulder of his previously well-fitting shirt hung in the middle of his upper arm, and his upturned collar cast a shadow over his cheek. The cuffs of secondhand jeans that had always been too short for his long legs suddenly gathered around his ankles. The lines of Bakura's face seemed softer, his chin more pointed, nose smaller, eyebrows thinner. And his hands…

"Bakura, could you hold out your hand?" Ryou asked absently, too distracted by his examination to consider the wisdom of his words. Bakura looked up from his cup and furrowed his brow at the request, but humored Ryou and lifted his hand. Without a word, or a thought for that matter, Ryou brought his own hand forward and set his palm against Bakura's own, comparing them.

Fingers far too thin to belong to the thief rested against the top joint of Ryou's own fingers, and no higher.

It was undeniable. Ryou's hand was larger.

They exchanged looks. Ryou's look was one of questioning bewilderment. Bakura's, however, resembled a deer caught in the headlights, or at least a deer who had just had some shameful secret brutally uncovered before its eyes. He could not argue with the glaring evidence, so the thief did the next best thing.

He panicked.

"Damn you! _Get away from me!_" Bakura practically screamed, flinging Ryou's hand away and backing away, trying desperately to crawl over the crook of the couch's arm. Hot chocolate spilled over the cushions.

"What _happened_ to you?" Ryou tilted his head, not sure what to think. Bakura said nothing, scrambling off the couch, presumably headed for the nearest door that he could lock and hide behind. Ryou had too many questions to let Bakura escape again, though, and moved fast. Stupidly, he reached out and clamped a hand down on his roommate's now thin shoulder.

He really should have expected the blow he received as Bakura whirled around and lashed out at him, hitting him in the side. But there was something about it he never would have thought possible, not from his deadly, dangerous, darker half; not from the King of Thieves, who had probably killed men with his bare hands before; not from Bakura.

Bakura had never hit him before, mostly because Ryou had never been dumb enough to get within striking range. But despite the surprise, his hand didn't move from its place on Bakura's shoulder. He just looked at the thief, dumbfounded.

The kidney punch had stung and startled him, and nothing more.

Ryou could see dread mounting in Bakura's eyes, disbelief flickering over his face as he gaped at his former host. He had probably expected the other boy to stagger backwards. Ryou certainly had. He swung his hand forward to strike Ryou again.

Ryou was prepared this time, and caught Bakura's wrist. The thief let out a strangled, protesting gasp as Ryou held his arm in the air, the boy he'd always called a weakling resisting all the force funneled into the attack without much more than a baffled expression. Ryou stared at his would-be assailant.

It was Bakura who stumbled instead, and by the way he dropped several inches in height, Ryou realized that he had been standing on the tips of his toes. He could clearly see over Bakura's head, now, even past the huge, arched tufts of hair that rose from it. The height difference boggled him. Ryou was not a tall guy, but now Bakura had to be about the height of the Pharaoh. It was rather disorienting to have to look _down_ to meet the thief's gaze.

He had never seen an expression quite like the one Bakura wore, not on anyone, and the thief's face was the last place he thought he'd find it.

Bakura looked like a wounded animal that had been backed into a corner, ready to kill and afraid for its life at the same time. Ryou could tell the ex-spirit was trying to be angry, trying to rage, and he half expected the Ring to materialize and draw monsters from the Shadow Realm to its master's defense. But Bakura was distinctly terrified, as though he'd been hit with some realization that shook him to his core.

Ryou was trying to figure out just what that was, when he became aware of a frantic tugging in his hand. Bakura's wrist was still trapped in the air where it had been caught, and could not break free.

Ryou opened his mouth to say something, when Bakura uttered a furious cry of frustration and launched himself bodily at his landlord. Now Ryou did stagger, but he caught Bakura and smoothly balanced himself. Ryou could scarcely believe he was able to fend of Bakura's assault with only learned reflexes, and if the thief's desperate expression was any indication, neither could he.

Bakura's almost pitiful attempts at assault made Ryou's heart heavy. Some phenomena outside the laws of science had obviously befallen the thief, stripping him of all his height, stature and strength. There was something else that seemed different about him, too, but Ryou couldn't place it, and Bakura started thrashing and swearing before he could dwell on it too long. He tightened his grip, and without realizing it, set his hands on Bakura's back in what dangerously resembled a hug.

The thief went still and silent, paralyzed by the nearly affectionate contact. Ryou didn't quite know what he was doing, just that he never would've dared to do it if he had given it any thought. Bakura was frozen in his arms, and Ryou could feel the thief's back muscles tense beneath his shirt, spine stiff as a board.

He shifted his palm, and could suddenly feel a strange, artificial ridge back there, uneven layers of something wound up around Bakura's upper back, below his clothing. A line of confusion creased over Ryou's forehead, and he wondered aloud, "What's—"

His captive suddenly came alive, drawing a burst of strength out of sheer desperation and shoving Ryou aside. Finally freed, he wasted no time, flying to the front door of the apartment and throwing it open.

"Bakura, wait!" Ryou shouted, recovering from the shove and running after him, but the door was slammed soundly in his face. He could hear someone taking off down the hallway through the thin apartment walls.

He stared at the door, trying to comprehend what just happened. His mind juggled all of the new, impossible information it had gathered, trying to piece it together in some way that worked within the realm of logic. But how did one logically explain shrinking thieves? Or barely feeling blows that should have left bruises? Missing magical artifacts?

Despite all this, only one question really came to the forefront of his mind.

_What's he running from?_


	4. Run Away

_And just run away, run away tonight_

_It ain't no victory, but I don't care_

_I don't care if it's wrong or right_

_We could just run away, run away tonight_

_This ain't no night to be on your own_

_You got to know where you're coming from_

_To know just where you're going on_

_This ain't no night to be on your own..._

~Live, 'Run Away'

Bakura had no destination in mind as he ran through the darkening streets. He just wanted to put as much distance between himself and the place of his horrible revelation as he could.

He had hoped against all hope that his condition was all an illusion, some sort of trick, but the fact that he wasn't even a match against Ryou – _Ryou_ – had made it painfully real. Marik hadn't been making empty threats.

Bakura slowed, leaning against a wall. Running was far more difficult than it should have been. His strides were shorter, his balance was skewed by his new center of gravity, and most of all, his new body was thin and out of shape. It was as though his body had been crafted purely for display purposes, not for any practical, actual use. Nausea coiled around his stomach as he realized it probably _had_ been, Marik twisting Bakura's shape until it resembled some archetype of fantasy…

The thief felt bile rising in his throat as he stared down at his hands. He couldn't get the image of Ryou's hand overshadowing his own out of his head. His fingers should _not_ have been that thin or his wrist that slim. Not _his_ hands…

_Not entirely appropriate anymore, is it?_ A cynical, sneering voice sounded from the back of the thief's head. It was his own voice, or at least, the voice he used to have. He swallowed hard, and was reminded of the bandages wound around his chest. He put them there in a desperate attempt to hide one of his new features, features which did not take kindly to being bound up so tightly. Queasiness made his face contort, and he had to concede. That damn voice was right.

They weren't his hands… they were _her_ hands.

Bakura quickly brought her hands up, burying her fingers in her hair in an attempt to get them out of her sight. For once in her life, she was a loss of what to do. She had immediately challenged Marik to a rematch when she lost, but the Egyptian had only laughed and smiled at her in a way that made her ill. Ryou had come dangerously close to figuring out what had happened, and once he knew, he'd tell Pharaoh and his followers all about it. Then the Pharaoh would know Bakura hadn't kept her oath, and she'd be sent to the Shadow Realm.

The Shadow Realm was not unknown territory to the thief, but this time it would be very different. Instead of being master of the shadows, she'd be as helpless as any mortal hapless enough to end up in the dark dimension.

She grasped the edge of the Ring, where it was tucked under her shirt. It was no longer warm and alive with magic; it hung around her throat like a piece of cold, dead metal. It might as well have been nothing else. The power was still there, but Marik had made sure to cut her off, separating her from the energies that had once been all but an extension of her own body.

She had gotten used to being able to rely on her menacing manners and intimidating appearance to make her way in the world, and she had had the Ring to fall back on for as long as she could remember. But now those were both gone, and she was stranded in a land and time far from her own, in an unfamiliar body that just screamed _vulnerable._ Living in modern day Domino hadn't been so difficult when she had all of Ryou's memories and knowledge at hand to draw upon, but now, the roaring cars and flashing lights and tall buildings and dropping air temperature were almost overwhelming.

Bakura growled and shook her head firmly, pushing herself away from the wall. She tried to draw her confidence up to face the world and figure out a plan, but the base she had always built it on was missing. Her reckless abandon had been cultivated from a sense of dark power, immortality, and a fierce reputation, but now…

Cars rushed by, and Domino's skyscrapers loomed over her, emphasizing just how small she was now. Her stern expression wavered.

_You're afraid._

She heard heavy footsteps behind her, and quickly turned to face them.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise," the deep, familiar voice of the Egyptian purred, "What's a pretty thing like you doing in this part of town?"

"You…" Bakura backed up and tried to snarl convincingly, but it fell short. She couldn't remember him being so… _big._ Marik's dark form would have dwarfed even Ryou, which meant that she now stood completely in the towering psychopath's shadow.

"What do you want?" She snapped, glancing around at passing pedestrians. They paid no heed to the confrontation. Still smiling his lecherous smile, Marik stepped up to Bakura and flourished his cape in a polite bow.

"It wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me to let a helpless _girl_ wander the dark streets all alone, would it?" he chuckled, his voice dripping with… _something._ Bakura ignored it, too busy bristling at the emphasis he put on her new gender to notice. She turned on her heels and headed off in the opposite direction.

"Tsk, not even going to hear out my proposal?" Marik didn't move from where he stood, folding his arms.

"I have no interest in doing business with the likes of you," Bakura hissed, lengthening her strides.

"Not even if I offered to change you back?"

Bakura stopped in her tracks. She hated the tone of his voice. He _knew_ she wouldn't be able to resist such an offer, and she could practically hear the smug grin in the way he spoke.

"You heard me," he continued, stepping towards her, "I suppose I realized my punishment, amusing as it was, is a little… hmmm… _harsh_. So, I'm offering you an opportunity to get change you back, good as new. After all, I'm sure you miss your powers," he snickered, "though probably not as much as _other_ things."

Bakura didn't turn around, glare fixated on the pavement. Finally, she spoke bitterly, knowing she'd regret her words. "…what do you want, fiend?"

"Oh, nothing much, nothing much at all," Marik stood directly behind her, nearly touching her. A disgusted chill shot down her spine as she felt him finger a lock of her hair, but Bakura refused to let herself shudder or shy away. She would _not _be intimidated.

"It's just that I'm so unfamiliar with this city, and I've experienced so little in my short time on this world. Just for one night, I'd like to put my plans aside and relax, go for a night on the town… but what fun is wining and dining without an attractive female companion?" Marik's fingers wound through her hair gently, and she tensed.

"Come now, it's not that bad. All you have to do to get your body back is let me treat you some entertainment and a warm meal, just for tonight. Why, you may ask? Well, I'm sure you're too ashamed to realize it, but…" his voice dropped to a husky whisper, "…you do make for a beautiful woman, thief."

Bakura set her jaw and curled her hands into fists, resisting the overwhelming urge to scream and lash out at him. Her rational mind fought to weigh her options. She didn't believe one word of what he said, but she knew he was insane, and that made him impossible to predict. He might be willing to change her back, just for a chance to humiliate her in public for one night.

Bakura knew it wasn't wise, but she couldn't help but latch onto the thought that she'd get her body back, her power, her strength. Her desperation sickened her, but the encounter with Ryou ran through her head, and the sheer feeling of weakness that accompanied it convinced her that the risk was worth it.

Bakura's shoulders slumped. She was trapped.

"I knew you'd see things my way," Marik snickered quietly, his warm breath washing over the top of her head, and she pulled away from him with a violent jerk. He stepped back, waving his hand. "Follow me, I know the perfect place."

With a sweep of his cape, he started walking down the street. As his cape whipped in the breeze, Bakura caught a glimpse of gold, strapped in his belt, and her breath caught in her throat.

It was the Rod.

Her hands itched, thieving instincts set off immediately. He had stupidly slipped it in the back loop of his belt, making it a prime target for any pick-pocket. Even if she couldn't use its power to defend herself, at least she could get it back and reunite it with the other Items. She followed him slowly, making a point to drag her feet and act as though she hadn't noticed a thing.

Once she had caught up with him, she struggled to keep pace with his long strides, her now oversized sneakers threatening to fall off with every step she took. Nevertheless, she wouldn't be distracted from the task at hand. She knew that as soon as she had it, it would be simple to conceal it somewhere in her loose over-shirt. Judging from his attitude, he'd be too busy gloating to notice it missing until after their 'date' was over. Watching for his reaction, she reached forward carefully, brushing his cape aside –

"Touch it, woman, and I break the offending wrist," Marik mentioned in a disturbingly casual tone, not even bothering to look back at her. Bakura's hand froze in the air, before she muttered venomously and withdrew it. But like any good thief, she knew when to be patient. She'd just have to try later, hoping the idiot would get himself drunk.

"I can certainly understand why you'd want it, though. The Rod is easily the most powerful Item, far more than that silly Ring of yours," he chuckled as if he had said something clever, and Bakura unconsciously curled her fingers around the precious metal beneath her shirt, glaring at him. He continued, ignoring her, "Oh, the Ring has a few nice tricks, but the Rod turns the world into your _pawn_."

Bakura was silent. She wasn't about to humor him with conversation, choosing to stare at the ground instead. She didn't know what direction Marik was taking her, but all of Domino looked the same to her – colorful, noisy, maddening – so it hardly mattered. The quiet stretched, and she focused on formulating another plan to get the Rod back.

"Hm… but it's not the power you're after, is it?" His blank eyes glanced over her, practically dancing with sick amusement, "Somehow, I don't think that's what you ever wanted."

Her glare became slightly confused, and he smiled. "It's touching, really, how you tried so hard to gather them all up, how doggedly you tried to protect them once someone else had managed to get them when you could not. Most people seek the power within the Items, but I swore you were possessive of the things themselves and I could never figure out why. But now that I have the Rod back, your memories are an open book."

Marik's tone took on an air of exaggerated sweetness, and he looked down at Bakura with an expression of false pity, "You poor thing, having to watch your entire town slaughtered and skewered, watching their blood and flesh boil into the melted gold…"

The hair on the back of Bakura's neck stood up. She had learned to ignore insults and taunts over the ages, but it was sacred ground Marik was metaphorically pissing on with his mocking tone. Her rage was ignited, and it coursed through her blood.

"_Shut up!_" Bakura seethed, lunging for her tormentor, but she stopped short. The sounds of screaming and the smell of blood suddenly flooded her senses, and she stumbled back, clutching her head. A burst of memories, vivid as the day they happened, crashed down upon her psyche, and what part of her mind that wasn't caught in the deluge suspected the Rod was at work.

Marik simply laughed quietly. "Oh, I'm sorry, is that a sore spot? I must remember that you're far more _sensitive_ now." He had stopped walking, leering and grinning devilishly as she struggled to fight off the graphic images.

"Bastard! Get… get out of my head!" Bakura spat and shook her head sharply, waging a hopeless fight against the flood. The memories and illusions ran into her vision, and Egyptian foot soldiers wielding bloodied swords appeared in the corner of her eye. The grungy concrete walls of the surrounding buildings warped into the dirty mud-brick walls of her childhood home. The sounds of human slaughter rang in her ears, and an old feeling gripped her heart. It was the same feeling that had haunted her since that day, when she had been a small boy able only to watch in horror as his parents fell beneath the blades of the Pharaoh's men, a feeling she had spent three millennia trying to shake off, to disprove, to overcome…

Powerlessness.

Bakura forced her head to lift. She summoned all the hate and loathing she could muster and channeled it into one ferocious glare, wrenching her lips back into a snarl. "What the hell is this for?"

With her eyes off the ground, she noticed for the first time that she had been led into a dark, trash filled lot, poorly lit and isolated. They were alone. She had been caught unaware. He had probably put the Rod just where she could see it, just so she'd obsess over stealing it, not paying attention to where they went, not considering the obvious danger…

_He was toying with you the whole damn time. Ironic, isn't it? He didn't even have to use the Rod, did he? He dangled a treat in front of your nose, and you followed him like a lamb. _

Real dread started to rise in her chest, and Marik smiled like a wolf that knew it had its prey. He started towards her, his wild cape and hair flying in the wind behind him and filling her vision with his dark silhouette.

Bakura back-tracked, preparing to break into a run, when she felt her back scrape against a wall. The screams of the past now mixed with her internal verbal self-abuse, calling herself every synonym of _idiot_ in every language she knew. Desperate, the thief sprung away from the wall, but a strong hand caught her shoulder and shoved her back against it. She kicked out with all the strength of the cornered and frantic, until Marik delivered a stunning blow to her temple with the back of his fist.

"I failed to mention that _you_ were going to be the dinner and entertainment tonight, my dear," his lips peeled back in a twisted grin. With his free hand, he produced the athame knife hidden in the Rod's sheath, and set the glimmering blade to Bakura's throat. Marik lowered his head, sending a wash of warm air over her face, and his dead eyes became alive with carnal hunger.

Bakura watched with detached disbelief. It was all she could do; she was petrified, and she didn't know if she was in shock or if the Rod had commandeered control of her muscles. _As if you could do anything against him anyway,_ the spiteful voice from earlier buzzed like a mosquito in her ear.

Marik's head dipped down further, his bangs scratching at her face, and she felt a lustful tongue run down her neck. Bakura wanted to scream, in anger, in disgust, in fear and hate and panic, but her voice was robbed from her when a rough hand descended upon her shirt.

_You're going to be raped and there's nothing you can do._

Though it was obvious, the word crushed her soul. _Raped, raped, raped…_ The voice almost sung the word in a taunting mantra. _The King of Thieves, raped like a common whore in an alley… _

As the voice mocked her, she was able to move with a flood of strength born from sheer panic, trying to writhe away from the tongue on her throat and the hands unbuttoning her shirt.

Then Bakura felt the cold metal of the knife's blade run over her stomach, through her shirt, silently promising to gut her if she kept thrashing. The thief quickly became still, though part of her mind wondered if it was better to die. She wanted to cry, wanted to vomit, wanted to _breathe_, but found she could do nothing as the knife sunk in. In one deft slice, Marik cut through not only the shirt and bandages she had bound her chest with, but her first layer of skin as well –

And without warning, the knife fell and Bakura's attacker slumped against her.

She sputtered in confusion, trying to shove the crushing weight of the limp body away before she even realized what had happened. Bakura didn't know if he was unconscious or dead, and she was too busy trying to get away from the sickening sensation of his weight atop her to care.

Another set of hands helped shove the would-be rapist to the side, and he hit the ground with a dull thud. Finally able to move again, Bakura lifted her hands and pushed her bangs out of her face, fighting to catch her breath.

"Are you all right?" a soft voice she knew all too well wondered.

Bakura raised her eyes to stare at Ryou in stupefied silence. He had no weapons, nothing he possibly could have felled the tall Egyptian with, but there he was.

Her former host looked down at her with grave concern, before he stumbled over an explanation. "I… I followed you, at a distance, and, um, I overheard some of what he said… I'm sorry, I should've got here sooner..."

His words faded from her senses as a numb sensation settled over her mind, skin crawling at the memory of the unwelcome touch. Bakura's hands hurriedly wiped off her throat as she cringed in repulsion. She quickly re-buttoned her shirt, fighting to hold the torn material together, but her movement slowed. Unbidden, the events of the past few minutes and hours replayed themselves in her head and distracted her.

She had been overpowered so… _easily_. First by Ryou, then by Marik. Bakura wasn't accustomed to winning her battles, but rarely was she so utterly defenseless_._

The powerless feeling came over her again, and she struggled to swallow around a knot in her throat. The reality of what had happened was starting to sink in, and it was merciless.

"Bakura…?"

Ryou stepped closer, and Bakura tightly crossed her arms before her chest. It was a futile effort, but she felt painfully naked, painfully _obvious_ without the bandages to conceal the alien weight on her chest. She sought for the energy to snap at him, to get him away so he wouldn't see her in this moment of weakness, but her voice was still missing.

"Come on, let's go home," Ryou suggested gently.

She glanced at him, faint puzzlement creasing her otherwise blank face. That was it? Surely he had seen what Marik had turned her into, hadn't he? She was pathetic. She was _weak_. She was everything she ever accused him of being, and he didn't even have one scathing remark? But Ryou's expression was neither smug nor pitiful, only concerned.

It didn't make any sense, but she felt no inclination to argue with him this time.

She stepped away from the wall, and followed Ryou on unsteady legs.

xxxxxxx

Bakura had never before been relieved to see the inside of the small apartment Ryou called home, but just this once, the familiar surroundings were welcome. It was warm, comfortable, and most of all, it felt far away from the dark streets outside.

The walk home had been uneasy and silent. Bakura could tell that Ryou had a million questions, but knew enough to keep quiet and give her space. The last thing she wanted was to talk or be touched, and for once, the teenager obeyed without question. The gesture almost inspired a tiny, smoldering spark of gratitude in the weary thief, but it was lost in a tumult of more pressing emotions.

Bakura threw herself down on the couch with all the force of her frustration, self-loathing and denied fears, quickly curling into the same defensive ball she had been in most of the day. Try as she might, she wasn't able to remain tense for long, as both mental and physical exhaustion robbed her of the energy required to maintain her stiff posture. Her head felt heavy and sore, and she buried her face in her arms with the distant hope that she might be able to hide from an oncoming headache.

Amidst all her other woes, she was starting to miss being a spirit, too. With her own body came freedom, but also, as she had forgotten, all the aches and failings of the mortal form.

She heard a door close, and felt benevolent eyes watching her. Ryou was still vainly hoping for some answers, apparently.

"I suppose you think I owe you an explanation, right?" she muttered acidly, though it was mostly muffled by her arms.

There was a moment of hurt quiet from the boy. "No," he said softly, "I guess it's really none of my business."

"Oh, _stop _it. I know I'd be damned curious if you came home with a new pair of ti…" Bakura found herself unable to spit out the vulgar word, her throat suddenly tightening around another knot. Some immature part of her mind was unwilling to state the obvious, as if it might make her situation truer than she was ready for it to be.

She felt someone else sit down on the end of the couch, and she dug her fingers into her elbows, refusing to acknowledge Ryou by looking at him. He just sat there, _watching_ her, and somehow his patient silence made her more uncomfortable than anything he could have said. She finally gave in.

"Fine, I lost a duel to him! Are you happy now?" Bakura bristled, raising her head just enough to shoot an agitated glare at him. Doing so, she caught a glimpse of his hazel eyes. He seemed wholly unconvinced by her angry display, as though he could see right past it, able to look directly at the highly contained mass of repressed fears and doubts festering in the back of her mind.

"Bastard likes to make his shadow games interesting… I should've figured as much from the last duel," Bakura continued, mumbling to herself to try and disguise the sense of transparency that had befallen her.

"He looks… familiar, but I can't quite place him," Ryou admitted, sounding perplexed.

"Heh, you wouldn't be able to," Bakura snorted in a low tone, "Marik – the tomb-keeper that started the whole episode with the God Cards."

Bakura was slightly surprised that she had given him an explanation, but then, it was her fault that the boy had been mostly unaware during those weeks. And, perhaps, some small, rebellious part of her _did_ feel she owed him something. Her stomach clenched at the thought of what might've happened if he hadn't stepped in, doing whatever he did...

"I feel like I should know this," Ryou thankfully interrupted her thoughts and scratched the side of his head, staring at his lap. Disturbed by herself, she resumed her gruff demeanor.

"I repressed you quite well in those months. Ask one of your _friends,_ if you really must know."

Ryou sighed, and Bakura had the fleeting hope that he'd get the message and leave, but he was too stubborn. "Why were you dueling him?" he wondered.

Bakura let out a sigh of her own, though this one was of irritation, "I was trying to win back the… shit. _Shit!_" Realization hit her, and she fell into a loud cursing spell.

"Huh? What is it?" Ryou looked up in confusion, but Bakura ignored him, uttering dark oaths. She pulled at her bangs hard enough to uproot a tuft of white hair, and the throbbing pain in her scalp only served to fuel her outburst.

"The Rod, I forgot to take the damned Rod! It was just _lying_ there! All I could think about was stealing the stupid thing back, and then… then…" Nauseating memories washed over her conscious, and she grasped her forehead, closing her eyes. Her other hand pulled at the collar of her shirt, trying to cover her throat, an unconscious gesture to render herself less vulnerable. It almost worked, until her fingers fell on a long, diagonal gash of frayed threads, slit by knife blade.

"How the hell could I be so stupid…?" she mumbled to herself. For the first in a long time, her mind and emotions felt out of control, all because Marik had somehow figured out how to derail all of her confidence and pride in one catastrophic, humiliating blow. How had one young spirit of hate managed to destroy something Bakura had spent three thousand years perfecting?

She became aware of a shuffling sound, and by the time she looked up, a coat hung in front of her face.

"Here," Ryou's sympathetic eyes gazed just over the top of the coat, "It'll cover… that tear up, and it's probably warmer."

Bakura didn't know how to react to the offering, raising her lip. "I don't want your dirty clothes."

Ryou frowned, the hand holding the coat lowering. "Sorry, I just…" his eyes fell on the rip in her shirt, "You're not cut, are you…?"

Bakura hissed and suddenly snatched the coat out of his hand. The last thing she needed or wanted was for him to start insisting she needed treatment. He blinked at her dumbly as she shoved her arms into the sleeves of his uniform, jerking it on and grumbling.

"Lovely," she leered and wrinkled her nose, "How nice of you to give me a coat that _reeks_."

"What?" Ryou was genuinely confused, "I just washed it not too long ago, I didn't smell anything –"

Bakura couldn't identify the pervasive scent, until her mind came back to the pathetic assault she launched at him. In the moment before Ryou detected her bandages, she had been close enough to smell…

"Of course not, it reeks of _you_," Bakura snorted, trying to expunge the odor from her memory and senses. It was a combination of soap, shampoo, hair, and something that was uniquely 'Ryou'. Despite her protests, it was not… _entirely_ unpleasant, but it made her uncomfortable. The boy in question looked rather embarrassed.

"I have another coat somewhere, a clean one, w-want me to get it?" Ryou asked in a small voice.

"Just never _mind_," she grated, too frustrated to form a coherent argument. Bakura wouldn't admit it, but she was glad the long coat now covered her arms. The more skin she could cover, the more layers she could add between her wretched new body and the outside world, the better. And the scent was surprisingly easy to get used to, now that she couldn't escape it. Somehow, it snaked into her mind and quieted her raucous thoughts and emotions, drowning them out with its presence. Her eyelids became heavy. She was too exhausted to fight it off, and wasn't even sure she wanted to…

"I'm going to go make supper, okay?"

Bakura's eyes flew open, and she hadn't even realized she closed them. His reassuring tone only incited offense in her overloaded mind. How dare he speak to her like she was a scared child? She opened her mouth to start railing at him, but had already stood and left, gifted with an impeccable sense of timing.

Though she was finally left to her thoughts, Bakura found that she didn't really feel like thinking. She shut her eyes tightly and withdrew into a tighter ball, stewing in the silence. The scent of a warm meal soon penetrated the fog that had descended over her mind, and when she looked up, she saw a plate of fish and rice held before her.

Faint hunger stirred in her stomach, but she had been too ravaged by emotions to have much of an appetite. The thief stared at the plate dispassionately.

"Do you, um, want something else?" Ryou asked uncertainly, "Or… if, you're too… I mean, if you're not hungry and want me to leave you alone, just say so."

Her earlier indignation came back with a vengeance at his words, or perhaps it was his almost motherly tone, or the fact that it was _that_ obvious she was in turmoil. Her cacophony of emotions came back in full force, pushing her to the breaking point. He was so convinced something was wrong, that she needed help, and to her troubled mind, he was just _looking_ for some way to humiliate her, to show he was superior, pretending to care…

"Stop _mocking _me!" Bakura shouted accusingly, and Ryou stumbled back in surprise as a pillow flew in his direction, "Don't you _dare_ patronize me! I don't need your goddamn help, or your goddamn clothes, or your goddamn food, you arrogant ass! _I had everything under control!_ I don't… just… get… get the hell…" She trailed off as it became difficult to breathe, her eyes aching with suppressed tears. She wasn't sure if they were due to her emotions, or her sharp nails digging into her skin as she clutched herself.

Ryou was silent, standing there with the plate of food for a long time. Her vision was too blurry to discern his facial expression, but whatever it was, it didn't change. Bakura tried to ignore him, closing her eyes, but she couldn't block out his voice.

"Bakura… Listen…" Ryou started, his tone saddened, and she heard him set the plate down, "You have every right to be upset, but please, raising your voice isn't going to solve anything. I know we're not on the best terms, but no one deserves what happened to you, and I… I just want to try and make you feel better. Nothing else."

Bakura blinked into her folded arms. He sounded so damn _sincere_. She'd spent enough time in his head to know he wasn't that good of a liar. Her posture sagged. Being so defensive was exhausting. She almost wanted to believe him, just so she could finally relax…

"Bakura?"

She didn't hear him. She had already fallen asleep.


	5. Torn

_I'm all out of faith_

_This is how I feel_

_I'm cold and I'm ashamed_

_Bound and broken on the floor_

_You're a little late_

_I'm already torn..._

~Natalie Imbruglia, 'Torn'

"_Here, have something to eat." _

_Bakura looked up and narrowed her eyes. Didn't she just tell him to go away? Unfazed, Ryou pushed the plate at her face insistently._

_Without warning, she let out a growl and smacked it away. Rice flew across the room and spattered against the television. For a moment, it almost felt like she had her strength back, and she grinned as Ryou stumbled back in surprise. Granted newfound confidence, she rose to her feet, sneering at him._

"_Maybe next time you'll learn to heed my words, weakling," she snorted, tossing her hair to the side and turning away. Ryou would be too busy pouting and cleaning to bother her, and she could sleep in peace._

_A cold hand clamped down on her shoulder. Anger flared at his insubordination, and she whirled sharply to face him –_

_Only to be met with a sweeping blow, hard enough to stun her. _

_When her vision cleared, she looked up at him in disbelieving horror, clutching her cheek. Ryou's face had darkened into an expression that seemed unnatural on his gentle face, a look of inhuman, seething rage. She sputtered, looking for something threatening to say, something that'd rattle him and cause him to revert back into the submissive, shy boy she knew, but nothing came…_

"_I'm getting quite __**sick**__ of your behavior," Ryou snarled quietly, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. _

_Bakura just gaped at him, until she finally gathered her wits enough to snarl back, "You cannot possibly think you can tell me what to do—"_

_She was shoved away roughly, nearly knocked to her feet, but she was able to catch herself thanks to a nearby wall. Unfortunately, it also meant she was trapped against it._

_Just as she raised her head, Ryou grabbed the collar of her shirt -- his loaned shirt -- and jerked it upwards. He lifted Bakura off her feet and pinned her against the wall, bringing her to his eye level. The thief tried to lash out, but she was paralyzed again, going utterly still once she saw the hateful red in his eyes._

"_Maybe I couldn't do anything about it when you were bigger than me, but I'm not about to put up with your __**shit**__," Ryou hissed menacingly "I gave you a place to live, whether it was my body or my home, I give you my food, I give you my clothes, I tolerate your unbearable presence, how do you thank me? By being nothing but a __**weak little bitch…**__"_

_Ryou's voice took on the sound of the cynical, internal tormentor that had haunted Bakura throughout the day, and his fingers migrated from her collar to her throat. She let out a strangled gasp as his thumbs bore down on her windpipe, staring at him with growing panic._

"_I even saved you from Marik," Ryou tilted his head to the side, and something else came into his eyes. They went from red, to more of a violet shade. Dead, hungry violet. "Maybe I should finish what he started, eh…?"_

_A twisted, predatory grin split his face, and he descended upon her. _

_His scent was suffocating…_

xxxxxxx

Ryou stepped out of his room, stretching his arms. For once, he was glad it was a weekend, if only because it granted him the luxury of sleeping till midday. He wandered into the living room, scowling when he saw that he carelessly left Bakura's untouched supper out on the table. He would've thrown it away, but she might be hungry when she woke up and demand to know where it went. It wasn't like she had any reservations about eating day old food. He shook his head and put it in the refrigerator.

As he returned, he glanced at the couch, where his roommate had uncurled herself into a more natural sleeping position. Her hair fell around her shoulders and the arm of the couch in wild disarray, and she hugged herself tightly, defensive even in her sleep. Ryou smiled sadly, and had to wonder if she always slept like that. He'd never seen the thief at rest before.

He was about to leave her in peace, when he saw a disturbed expression flicker over her face. Ryou frowned, noticing how her eyelids and lip twitched. She was actively holding herself, not just sleepily crossing her arms. Hesitant, he walked over to the couch.

"Bakura?" he touched her shoulder lightly. He knew how unwise it was to wake the thief, but she looked like she was having a nightmare. She confirmed his worries by letting out a garbled sound of pain and protest, and he shook her shoulder gently.

Ryou pulled back in surprise when she halfheartedly batted at his hand, as if she was trying to fend off an invisible attacker. His heart tightened when he made an educated guess about the subject of her dream, and he leaned over, shaking her more insistently. "Wake up, you're having a nightmare," he said softly, hoping his voice carried over to wherever her dreams and fears had taken her.

Bakura groaned and half-opened her bleary eyes. She stared up at Ryou blankly for a moment before terror flooded her expression and snapped her wide awake.

Ryou tried to smile comfortingly, "Hey, it's just –"

He was cut off when one of her hands shot up and punched him in the nose, bony knuckles colliding with fragile cartilage. Stars filled his vision for a moment, and they were just starting to fade when a sharp knee flew into his stomach. The girl beneath him tried to thrash out of his dazed grasp, frightened beyond the point of reason.

"_Oof!_ B-Bakura, what –?" he released her shoulder to hold his damaged nose, voice distorted by the injury.

"_Don't touch me!_" she exploded at him, screaming at the top of her lungs, and he was knocked to the floor by sheer surprise. He heard her scramble off the couch, and quick footsteps retreated down the hall. The door to Bakura's bedroom slammed loudly.

Ryou sat there for a moment, waiting for the aches to fade in his gut and nose, allowing himself one pathetic whimper. His bruises would be with him for a while, true, but he was just glad she hadn't kneed him a little lower.

"Well, that was stupid of me…" he mumbled and rubbed his tender nose. From now on, he'd listen to his instincts and let sleeping thieves lie. He finally stumbled to his feet, grimacing as he realized she might have given him a black eye. As the pain receded, faint guilt took its place. He really should have known better than to startle her in the midst of a nightmare like that. All he had accomplished was scaring her even more.

Ryou didn't know what to do. It was a strange, new experience to see Bakura displaying any emotion other than cockiness or anger. He had to admit it was a little refreshing, if he ignored his current pain. He couldn't fathom the ethereal being he used to know acting like that, but that spirit had been corrupt and unbalanced, and had lost touch with reality after three thousand years in darkness. But now, he could see that Bakura was slowly regaining some humanity, every time he saw her eyes...

With her transition going as it was, though, she'd never learn to trust anyone again. For once, she really hadn't done anything wrong, as far as Ryou knew, but she felt everyone was against her. Unfortunately, that was mostly true, and her past and current attitude did nothing to garner her sympathy. He was probably the only person who tried to reach out to her, and he was the one she seemed to hate the most. His shoulders sagged as he applied a bag of ice to his nose.

The teenager sank into one of the chairs around the kitchen table and sighed, holding the freezing, wet bag to his face. Maybe he shouldn't care so much. Maybe she was right, he was just looking for a reason to help her, whether she wanted it or not. He didn't want to prove himself, though… he didn't know what he hoped to gain. What if he really did just to cheer her up?

_Tsk, of course you have a motive. You want someone that needs you so they won't leave you alone like everyone else because, really, you're the dependent one. But who'd ever need __**you**__?_

He closed his eyes and tried to shoo away his inner demons. At least when Bakura had been in his head, the spirit had been mostly silent, as though it had been – he noted with a touch of irony – holed up in some other room. He glanced down the short hall. If a locked door was Bakura's answer to life's problems, maybe old habits just died hard…

Ryou almost jumped in surprise when there was a knock at another door.

_Who could that be?_ Ryou set the ice pack down, silently hoping it wasn't the landlord with a fistful of noise complaints.

As he opened the door, the first thing he saw was a vivid pair of fuchsia eyes. The Pharaoh stared up at him, managing maintain an air of imposing confidence despite his short stature. Ryou noticed that Yugi and Joey were with him, once he managed to pull his eyes away from the fierce gaze of the former ruler.

The Pharaoh opened his mouth to speak, but Yugi – the only one who could get away with it – accidentally interrupted him, looking concerned. "Ryou, what happened to your face?"

"Yeah, s'quite a shiner you got there," Joey observed, and the Pharaoh frowned as he took Ryou's injury into account, his eyes softening slightly.

"It's nothing, I just… uh… I fell," Ryou said quickly, wincing at his feeble excuse.

"There's no need to cover for that thief, Ryou," Pharaoh spoke in a low tone, "If he's hurt you in any way, we have all the more reason to come in."

"N-no, he hasn't, what's this about?" Ryou asked, though he obligingly stepped aside.

"The Rod," Pharaoh said bluntly, "Where is it?"

Ryou was silent for a moment as he finally recalled his promise to get information on the stolen Item. "I…"

"This is critical. We have to recover it immediately, and everything points to the tomb robber," the Pharaoh's tone was no-nonsense, and the fact that Joey and Yugi had started roaming around his apartment did nothing to ease Ryou's mind.

"He doesn't have it," Ryou blurted, causing all three sets of eyes to turn and look at him incredulously. Feeling surrounded, Ryou continued in a quieter tone, "I know it's hard to believe, but… Bakura didn't steal the Rod."

"There have been news reports of strange robberies and sudden attacks," Pharaoh's tone became very serious, and Ryou swallowed, "Only a select few are able to control the power of the Items, and I have every reason to believe my friends, if not all of Domino's residents are in danger. I never should have let him keep that Ring. I should have known his thieving ways would not change—"

"It wasn't him!" Ryou cut him off, unintentionally raising his voice. He blinked dumbly at himself, as surprised as everyone else at his outburst. They had ended up in the hallway, near Bakura's door. Steeling himself, Ryou stepped in front of it. He didn't know what he was doing, and some more rational part of his mind was trying to convince him he was being an idiot, to just hand Bakura over and avoid the Pharaoh's wrath, but he was steadfast.

"Step aside, Ryou," the Pharaoh's tone became slightly threatening, his eyes narrowing in warning. Ryou braced himself and did not budge.

"It was… it was Marik," he recalled the name Bakura used, meeting everyone's eyes with unflinching conviction.

"That's impossible," Yugi said, "Marik left after Battle City, and went back to Egypt with his brother and sister. Atem banished his dark side permanently…"

"I grow tired of this," the Pharaoh bristled, possibly because Yugi had used his true name in public. Ryou started to become disheartened that they refused to believe him, especially when Joey stepped forward, prepared to _assist_ Ryou out of the doorway.

"Please," Ryou's tone became pleading, "You have to believe me, I saw him!"

"You… saw Marik?" Pharaoh looked confused for a moment, probably not so much wondering how Ryou saw the Egyptian, but why the normally harmless boy was lying to their faces.

"Yes, honestly," Ryou insisted.

The Pharaoh closed his eyes, obviously trying to restrain his fury. Yugi frowned, setting a hand on his counterpart's arm.

"Ryou," the Pharaoh said in a tightly controlled tone, "I don't understand why you're testing the limits of my patience, but trust me, you will _not_ like the results. My friends are in danger, and I won't stand for this. Now, please, _step aside_."

Normally, Ryou would have been intimidated by the tone. Normally, he would've given up by this point, thrown his hands in the air and succumbed to the stronger will. Normally, he would have done as he was told, got out of the way and watched as they barged in, as they discovered Bakura's secret, as they played judge, jury and executioner…

But all he could think about was the expression she had on her face when he pulled Marik's limp form away from her. In that singular moment of vulnerability, his roommate became something else in Ryou's mind. She was more than a thief, more than a former evil spirit, more than a tomb-robber, more than a cold-hearted villain, more than a taunting, rough bully.

She was a person. Moreover, she was a person who was scared, despite her attempts to convince him otherwise. She had enough to deal with without the Pharaoh and his witch hunt.

Ryou spread his arms and dug his fingers into the wooden door frame, setting his shoulders. A disturbing calm settled over him, and he let his face sink into the faintest of glares.

"Leave him alone."

Even the Pharaoh was taken aback by his quiet but unwavering voice. Ryou continued.

"I understand your concern, but you're just wasting your time here. We don't have the Rod," he swept his hard look at the intruders, first at Joey, then Yugi, and then he met the Pharaoh's gaze, and matched it.

Ryou was amazed when the Pharaoh stepped back and bowed his head by a fraction of an inch. "We will get to the bottom of this," he promised, "And if we find that you're keeping anything from us, Ryou, I'll count you in league with the thief."

Yugi's mouth dropped open, and he started to protest, when a stern look from the taller wild-haired boy silenced him. Joey just looked bewildered and unhappy to be caught up in something he didn't really understand. Ryou didn't move from his place in the doorway, remaining there until they turned and left. He flinched when the Pharaoh slammed his door shut, and final let go of the wood. He walked to the opposite side of the hall, slumping against the wall and sinking into a sitting position.

What was he doing? He had never gone against his friends before. They were being perfectly reasonable in their actions and suspicions, but something in him would not let them go after his roommate. He already felt like he had let her down by failing to prevent Marik from touching her at all, by upsetting her enough to run off in the first place. And now he'd failed his friends by being on the wrong side.

Ryou held his head, and almost didn't hear the door across from him opening. He didn't bother to lift his head, already anticipating that she'd start yelling at him for thinking she couldn't handle the Pharaoh and his cohorts…

But there was silence. Making sure he hadn't been hearing things, he looked up.

Bakura stared down at him, standing in her doorway. Her head was tilted slightly, and she had a slight expression of incomprehension.

"Why didn't you just say I was gone?" Her voice finally broke their wordless exchange, "If you said I was off somewhere, they would have thanked you and left, and you wouldn't have gotten yourself on the Pharaoh's blacklist."

Ryou wilted as he realized she was right, that his display had accomplished nothing. "I don't know," he mumbled, shaking his head, "I wasn't thinking."

Instead of responding with a smart remark, Bakura just grunted, something that sounded a little odd with her now feminine vocal chords. Ryou almost wished she _had_ insulted him, so he'd have something else to think about. He didn't want to dwell on what had just transpired. He really hadn't been thinking, as his mind suddenly became focused on the singular goal of keeping them out and away from her. It was almost as though he were acting…

Protective?

Ryou almost laughed aloud at the idea. Him, protective of anyone, much less _Bakura?_ It was ridiculous. But he quickly became subdued when he realized that just might be it.

Something twisted in his stomach, and he found it impossible to look in Bakura's direction. She'd kill him if she knew.

As it was, he was amazed he was getting off this easily, so much so that the eerie silence was starting to become uncomfortable. He dared a glance upwards, and saw her leaning against the doorway, taking in all the sights the carpet had to offer.

"Why do you do it, Ryou?" Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and Ryou blinked when he heard her use his actual name. He lifted his head.

"Do what?" he asked, frowning at her body language. She still held herself defensively, and seemed deeply shaken by something, though she was trying her best to hide it. The events of last night had probably given her a whole new range of nightmare material, the likes of which she never even had to consider before.

"Why do you tolerate me?" Bakura reiterated, her tone laced with annoyance at having to explain herself. "Are you a masochist, or are you just stupid? Can you even fathom the list of crimes I've committed against you, boy?"

Her voice was not guilty, only accusatory and confused. Ryou let out a soft 'heh' and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. His mind wandered back to earlier days.

He had hardly known the dark force that had possessed him, blanking out his memories and stealing away his consciousness, only understanding that he had to try and stop it. Ryou was never the kind of person to muster hate easily, slow to anger and quick to forgive, but he had almost, _almost_ been able to hate it. That was largely because for the longest time, he had thought it was a malevolent extension of himself, and his full responsibility. Things had changed, though. Now that Bakura was outside his mind, Ryou's empathic, compassionate nature had kicked in, forcing him to see the spirit as something more than a cruel twist of fate.

"Sometimes, I was certain there was a human soul behind the darkness in my head, even if it was faint…" he finally spoke, hushed and wary of his words, "I felt as much that one time… I don't need any other reason to forgive you."

Bakura scrutinized him for a while, before dismissing his altruism with a snort. "_What_ time?"

"When… You took the blow for me, in that weird duel with the red dragon. I didn't really know what was going on, and I still don't… All I remember is that you spread your arms and made sure that blinding light hit you instead of me." Ryou smiled secretly at the memory. Maybe all he had been doing was repaying a favor.

Bakura looked puzzled for a moment, before her metaphorical feathers became ruffled, "Don't be an idiot, I only did that because I needed your body in good working order!"

"I'm pretty sure it was just a hologram…" he closed his eyes, trying to remember, "What damage could it have possibly done to me?" Ryou countered.

"It was a Shadow Game, and" The thief muttered, seeking another argument before she begrudgingly closed her mouth and set her jaw. Evidently, her search was unsuccessful, so she tried another strategy. "You can try convincing me of your sainthood all you wish, but all I see is a lonely child, so desperate for companionship he enjoys the crudest of company. You foolishly believe that you can befriend me, don't you? That I'll see the error of my ways, and we can be best friends forever, just like the Pharaoh and his runt?"

Ryou cringed slightly. Bakura must have been feeling better if she was able to employ her sharp tongue without littering her language with vulgarities. He almost missed her screaming and swearing. Those didn't hit so close to home, weren't so cold-hearted and, most of all, they weren't so _right_.

A sliver of hope in his heart crumbled. In the recesses of his mind, he had been selfishly wondering, hoping that maybe, just maybe, her personality had been altered along with her body. Until this point, things had been different, but their current exchange was identical to countless others they had, long before Marik's penalty game ever entered the mix. Her voice was different, but the haughty inflection was the same. The thief was aloof and unapproachable once again. Nothing had really changed.

"Yes," he murmured, closing his eyes, "Yes, I want to be your friend, and yes, I know how stupid it is. I know I'm being an idiot," his voice dropped barely above a whisper, and his eyes stung, "I know you hate me."

"What? That's not true!" Bakura snapped, and a very perplexed Ryou blinked his eyes open. He saw a look of equal confusion cross her face, before she tried to cover for herself, "…I don't care about you at all. You're not important enough to hate, you're merely an annoying brat. You're nothing but a useless, pathetic, weak…"

Ryou almost recoiled as she rattled off insults and derogatory descriptions, but he noticed something. It was the way she spoke, the way she waved her hands and violently spat each word out as she used him for a verbal punching bag. For no reason he could see, she was losing her cool. She was just… _trying_ too hard. Trying to knock him down a peg, trying to write him off, trying to humble him, put him below her, beneath her on every possible level. But he was already humble. What was the point? His mind became quiet and blank as he suddenly grasped what she was doing.

She was not trying to convince him, but herself.

"Bakura…"

"_What?_" She turned her head sharply to give him her best glare for interrupting her.

"Are you…" he stared at her, hardly able to believe what he was about to ask, "…afraid of me?"

Bakura's voice died in her throat, her every movement halting. Her crimson eyes slowly turned to him, and they shone with the unmistakable, fearful look of someone who'd been figured out. They practically screamed _how did you know?_

Ryou rose to his feet, his hurt turning to sympathy. He could practically see her erecting her defensive barriers as he stood, fuming at him, her previously smooth vocabulary failing her now.

"I don't understand," he said, spreading his hands in a universal gesture of harmlessness, taking a chance and stepping towards her, "I've put what you've done to me behind me. I don't care what you say. I don't care if everyone else in the world wants your head, Bakura. I'm not going to turn on you, I swear."

But she didn't seem convinced. Her eyes had gone wide, and she was frozen in her tracks. A thought occurred to him, and he stopped his approach, taking a step back. Her posture relaxed slightly, but she was still guarded, keeping a wary eye on him.

Ryou lowered his head and hands. Did she really expect him to attack her? The thought hurt almost as much as her cruel words. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, unable to keep his voice from sounding wounded.

Somehow, those quiet words drove her over the edge, and he closed his eyes as the nearby door slammed shut. He walked up to it and tried to say something intelligent, but it seemed words weren't coming easily to either of them today.

Instead, he leaned his forehead against the wood, and mumbled an apology.


	6. Problem Child

_I'm crippling, I'm sobbing _

_I'm degrading_

_I know you want me_

_I'm deprecating, I'm demoralizing_

_I'm sad, humiliating _

_I'm empty, I'm destroying, I'm guilty _

_I'm ashamed_

_I'm wrong _

_I know I'm wrong..._

~Leah Andreone, 'Problem Child'

Pillows were something Bakura had come to appreciate immensely, ever since she first got a taste of the modern world. They made sleeping far more enjoyable than it had been in Egypt, where the most comfortable place to sleep was a moon-cooled mud-brick roof. It was too bad they were impossible to shoplift, since she really would have appreciated having another at hand.

The only one she had at the moment had gotten soaked.

Bakura didn't know what was wrong with her eyes, or her face and throat, for that matter. The muscles in those areas just felt sore and tight, clenching and squeezing tears from her eyes and sobs from her lungs against her will. She had put up a noble fight against the onslaught, but after Ryou had once again unearthed some secret shame, it was a hopeless battle.

She didn't understand him. His actions went against everything she knew about human nature. Yes, he was obviously lonely, and obviously weak, but where had he gotten the will to tell off the Pharaoh himself? His behavior was erratic, but she should know that by now. He was, after all, the same quiet boy who couldn't even put up a fight when she first overtook his mind, but was able to demonstrate a powerful resistance later on, standing up against her and sacrificing himself for people he hardly knew. And now, he had just used that same defiant tone against those friends, in _her_ defense.

He was unpredictable. Marik had also been unpredictable. Her understanding of people and her ability to anticipate their actions seemed to be crumbling. She had brand new things to fear and worry about. Before, she had divided the human race into either pawns or enemies, but now, everyone was a potential threat. It overloaded her, threw her off balance. The whole world had fallen into chaos…

The thief had been motionless during the entire exchange outside her door, staring into her pillow and listening to the demanding voice of the Pharaoh. She had been too numb and shell-shocked from her dream to be afraid, and found some part of her mind sickeningly hoping she could cut a deal with the Pharaoh, have him destroy her soul and free her from this living hell. The thought of another day in this weak, useless body, of another night filled with visions so realistic she woke up in humiliating pain, was almost too much to bear.

And Ryou chased her only chance at freedom away. Bakura had been able to muster a little anger towards him over that, but mostly, it just registered as another blow. Seeing him in the hall, saddened and curled up, had been a far more comforting sight than she wanted to admit. It was a reassuring reminder that this was the true Ryou, pathetic and harmless, just a child that wanted to win her favor and friendship.

As he mumbled and kept his gaze away from her, she had let a small look of relief cross her face at the sight of his familiar eyes. They were the same rich brown they always were, deep, dark and sad, nothing like hate filled, lust filled, blazing shade that still haunted recesses of her memory. She had clung to that consolation and zealously built it a support structure, each insult another beam, another brick. Bakura had been hoping to see that expression of resignation he adopted whenever she started verbally tearing into him like an attack dog. It would signify her victory over him, solidify and cement her defenses against her irrational dread.

But instead, he had looked up and obliterated her precious mental fort with one astonishingly perceptive question, and she broke down along with it.

Bakura had all but thrown herself at her bed, momentarily alive with frustration and despair, and tried her best to suffocate herself with her lone pillow. With her mind in ruins, she had nothing left to fight the tears with, and they came violently.

Like everything she did, some distant part of her consciousness noted. It simply would not be like her to sniffle quietly; no, that was what Ryou did. For the former King of Thieves, it would be a heaving chest was wracked with sobs, half smothered, crying so hard it hurt, fingers clutching the pillow tightly enough to rip the dampened fabric.

The sound of threads separating roused her out of her thoughts. She stared at it, unblinking.

Something in her snapped as the threads did.

Bakura lifted her head, flinging the pillow across the room. She snarled, even as her shoulders shook with ragged, hitched breath, and it landed against the wall with an unsatisfactory thump. She inhaled sharply with a high-pitched wheeze, and quickly groped for something with more substance, soon chucking a small clock at the wall. Unlike the pillow, it let out a mechanical crack as it hit the wall, shattering across the floor.

Much better.

Inspired, Bakura pulled herself out of bed and started ravaging the room, tossing anything she could lift. Clothes fluttered to the floor, stolen trinkets jingled and broke, knives embedded themselves in the drywall, a picture frame crashed and landed in countless pieces. Each pitch was punctuated with a screamed or blubbered obscenity, tears streaming down her face and flooding her vision to the point where she couldn't even see what she was throwing. Muffled voices from the tenants in surrounding apartments demanded that she keep it down, threatening to call the police, but they might as well have been mute.

"_What's wrong with me?_" Bakura demanded of the ceiling, and when it gave no reply, she launched a deck of Duel Monsters cards at it. She clawed at her wet face as they rained down, furiously wiping the tears away. No matter how much she raged, she was _still_ crying, crying like a scared little girl…

Having run out of lightweight objects, she threw herself at the wall, smacking it with her fists. "_I __**hate**__ this body! Why the hell is it doing this? Why can't I stop…_"

Her wrath had cut a haphazard swath across the room, and ended in the corner opposite of the bed. Her frenzy finally ran its course, leaving her drained and panting. Bakura screwed her eyes shut and leaned heavily against the wall, fighting for her every breath. Her knees gave out, and she was brought to the floor.

She hugged her knees and sobbed the last of her tears into the denim of her jeans.

xxxxxxx

Ryou hadn't really wanted to leave, but he did, and now he felt like a coward.

On the contrary, as soon as he heard the muffled sobs coming out of the locked bedroom, he had seriously considered jimmying the doorknob until he managed to open it. He didn't know what he would happen once he got in there, beyond him probably getting another black eye; he just wanted in.

He winced when he heard things being tossed, at every choked out scream. Ryou couldn't understand most of what she had said, since it was either too guttural or in a bizarre language he could only assume was ancient Egyptian, but what he could pick out centered on him being damned to every hell Bakura knew.

Guilt constricted his chest. He didn't know how he had upset her so much, but he wanted to make up for whatever he had done. He had never taken Bakura's hatred so personally before, previously considering it just a fact of life. But then, he never made her cry before, either…

As she turned the focus of her rage to her transformed body, Ryou was hit with an idea. He wasn't sure it was very smart, but he wanted to do _something_, anything. Maybe she was afraid because she didn't fully understand her change, or had a lot of millennia-old misconceptions. It wasn't like they had feminism three thousand years ago, after all.

So, Ryou had left and headed to the library, trying to ignore the nagging voice that suspected he just wanted an excuse to get out of there. Out of sight, out hearing range, out of mind. That or maybe he was afraid one of his neighbors really would call the police. Whatever the reason, some part of him was convinced he should have stayed. What if Marik somehow tracked her down? That thought alone almost made him reverse direction, but his rational side convinced him that he was just being paranoid.

Nevertheless, he got to the library in record time, quickly locating the health section and selecting the first book he found on the subject. Ryou was so preoccupied that he failed to notice the odd looks the librarian gave him as he set his book down on the counter, nor did he stop to consider how strange it was for an older teenage boy, to rush in and check out a book for teenage girls.

He started home, clutching the book and walking as briskly as he could without drawing attention to himself. His mind was racing as he crossed the sidewalk to his apartment, heart pounding in his throat. Not only was he afraid of what he might find when he got back, but he was embarrassed about what he was doing, fully aware that it was probably stupid and he'd somehow worsen the situation.

Ryou took a deep breath, standing before the door to his apartment and cautiously unlocking it. He nudged the door open, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that everything was as he left it. Bakura was nowhere in sight, and he assumed she had not left her room. Maybe he wouldn't actually have to confront her, he could just conveniently leave this book out somewhere in the open, and busy himself with making supper. She'd eventually emerge, find it, and tuck it away for later reading.

A quick scan of the room told him that the top of the television would be an ideal place. He set it down, posing it in a variety of ways, trying to make it a little less painfully obvious.

"What are you doing?"

Ryou jerked, startled when he heard the weary, irritated question. He looked over his shoulder and found Bakura standing several feet behind him, glaring at him through eyes rimmed with redness.

"I… nothing, I just came back from the library," Ryou said without a thought, and immediately grimaced. So much for being covert.

Bakura ignored him, focusing on the book he held with obvious suspicion. Her eyes darted back up to his, silently ordering him to explain further. He sighed in defeat and held it out. It would be beyond foolish to for him try and pull one over on Bakura, of all people.

"I heard you, um, complaining..."

Something flared in her eyes, as though he intruded on something that was deeply private and embarrassing. He froze for a moment, afraid he had incited her anger yet again. But she said nothing, so he continued.

"This… it's a book about… erm, girls. I thought maybe you'd be able to use it, I don't know," he stared at the floor sheepishly, self-consciously rubbing the back of his head with his free hand.

"Are you suggesting I'm ignorant?" Bakura demanded, finding her voice. He could already tell she was getting ready to launch an attack, and Ryou closed his eyes in tired resignation. Could he do _anything_ without her getting offended?

"No, I just mean –"

"Do you think I can't adapt? That I can't master this situation?" Her voice steadily rose, and he shrank back, "I _will_ overcome this, and I certainly don't need you or your stupid books!"

"I'm sorry, I just wanted…" Ryou tried to think of something that would placate her, but he got the feeling nothing short of a miracle would get her to back down. He felt the book being swiped out of his hand, and flinched as it was thrown at his chest. It fell to the carpet, splayed on its spine.

"Get out! I'm sick of dealing with your idiocy!" she snarled, setting her shoulders. He backed up, raising his hands.

"Bakura, I –"

"I said _get out!_" She stabbed her finger at the nearby doorway, her eyes alight with fury. "_Now!_"

Ryou prepared to defend himself, but quickly thought better of it. Instead, he frowned dejectedly and turned, heading out the door.

He didn't even notice as the door was slammed behind him. He was too used to the sound by now.

xxxxxxx

Most people have a favorite hiding place they escape to when plagued by their woes. It might be a local bar, the park, a friend's house; anything that's far away from the source of their troubles. For Ryou, however, his lonely, quiet apartment had always been both his prison and sanctuary. He didn't get out much, and now that he was forced from his home and into the city, he didn't know where to go.

So he walked, aimless. He was not the type to visit bars, and it was getting dark, so loitering about the park probably wasn't wise. The only residence he knew of was the game shop, and he certainly couldn't go there. Doubtless, Yugi and his friends had all gathered there for the weekend and had been told the story of Ryou's uncharacteristic obstinacy, his foolish decision to remain loyal to the villain of the hour. He wouldn't find any sympathy there.

Ryou's feet brought him to some fast food restaurant, tucked into the corner of a downtown street. The sight of food reminded him of how poor his diet had been lately, and his stomach made the decision for him. He entered and ordered a drink, then, after a moment of thought, bought all the food the money in his pocket would buy. He wasn't sure if he was making up for missed meals or just looking for something to do, but either way, the smell of greasy hamburgers was far more appealing than it should have been.

The boy brought his loaded tray down to a small table and unwrapped his first sandwich, but just before he could bite down, someone quietly approached his table.

"Hey, Bakura," a quiet, female voice greeted him, and he looked around in confusion, momentarily wondering how the thief had followed him, until he realized he was the one being addressed. He glanced upwards and saw Joey's sister… what was her name? They had never been formally introduced, and only one name came to him. Hoping it was correct, he smiled nervously and set the burger down.

"Hello… Serenity?" Ryou couldn't help but sound uncertain, and she rewarded him with a small smile and an affirmative nod. Her eyes wandered down to her own, far emptier tray and the floor beyond.

"Would you mind if I sat with you, Bakura? It probably sounds silly, but I hate eating alone," Serenity asked tentatively, and Ryou quickly shook his head.

"No, be my guest. Just please, um… call me Ryou," He scratched his ear, looking to the side. He always felt awkward around new people, far too accustomed to being alone. His full tray didn't help; all Serenity had was an order of fries and a drink, and he felt gluttonous.

"Okay, Ryou," she smile shyly, and he became a little more easy. It was a refreshing change to have someone smiling at him instead of scowling or screaming. Nevertheless, he turned his full attention on his meal, not knowing how else to deal with his introversion.

"Why aren't you at the game shop with Joey and his friends? He said that everyone was going over there, and it seemed important," Serenity broke the silence, tilting her head. Ryou felt her staring at the bruise around his eye, something he had completely forgotten about. He set his hand over that side of his face and winced, but she seemed to know better than to mention it. If she had grown up with Joey, she had probably come to accept boys having black eyes as natural as clouds on a rainy day.

"Oh, um," Ryou bit his lip and studied a French fry intently, "I… don't really hang out with them much."

"Oh… do you have other friends?" she wondered, staring at him. He tried not to squirm. Why was she asking him so much? Was she suspicious of him too? _Calm down, she's probably just trying to make friendly conversation_.

"I… I guess. Y-yeah, a few," he lied, anxiety creeping into his voice. He could practically hear Bakura laughing at him for expecting anyone to believe such a blatant untruth.

"But you're here, all alone," Serenity frowned, looking concerned, "It's the weekend, you should be out doing something fun with them."

Ryou let a soft, saddened 'heh' slip free. It must have shown on his face, too, since before he could think of an excuse, she was speaking again.

"Is something wrong?" she looked genuinely worried, before shrinking back in her seat and twirling a lock of hair. "I'm sorry, I'm probably bothering you, aren't I?"

"No, not at all," he said quickly, lifting his head and shrugging, "I just haven't been having a good day… it's nothing."

"Oh… what happened? If you want to talk about it, I mean," Serenity corrected herself, light brown eyes staring at him sympathetically. It was almost strange to have someone be so curious about _him_, of all people. She didn't know him, what did it matter to her? There was something else, something about her eyes, her manner and voice, that caught his attention and stirred distant memories.

_If her hair was lighter, she could be Amane._

Another layer of melancholy sank into his chest at the memory of his dead sister. He had never been able to make friends easily, but his sister had been a constant companion. Serenity's quiet, polite demeanor was so much like her it was almost disturbing.

"R-Ryou? Are you okay?" her voice interrupted his trance, and he blinked, noticing she was blushing. Ryou's own face became rather warm, and he stuffed a few fries into his mouth to try and conceal it.

"Y-yes, sorry, I've just… um… been having problems with… a friend, lately."

"That's too bad," Serenity said, somehow managing to say the phrase without the faintest hint of patronization, "What kind of problems?"

Ryou considered. Part of him was longing for the chance to pour his troubles out to somebody, but he felt as though he had a duty to keep Bakura's secret. He didn't even know if Serenity was aware of his spirit 'companion' turned flesh, and he didn't really feel like explaining their relationship, namely since that required understanding it in the first place.

"I… sort of got kicked out of my apartment by my, um, friend. H—" Ryou paused, stumbling over the pronoun. Bakura wasn't exactly a he anymore, right? Besides, if she did know about Bakura, she would instantly realize Ryou was talking about 'him'. "…She kind of has a temper."

"What? That's awful, how could she chase you out of your own home? She has no business doing that," Serenity's voice was low, but earnest.

"Well, she lives with me," he elaborated casually, then closed his eyes and silently cursed himself. _Living with a mysterious female? That won't sound odd, not at all,_ he snorted at himself.

An odd expression crossed Serenity's face, looking both puzzled and… disappointed? "Did you two have a fight?"

Ryou became flustered. She made it sound like they were a couple. "Kind of… I guess it was my fault. She's been upset lately, something bad happened to her, and I've been doing my best to be a friend. Every time I try, though, she just gets angrier at me. She finally had enough and told me to get out."

"Hmm…" Serenity seemed to consider, "Is she always like this?"

"She's never exactly friendly towards me, no… she's only living with me by circumstance, not choice," his shoulders and eyes lowered, "But she doesn't usually blow up at me like this."

Serenity set her chin on her palm, mulling over this information. "I'm guessing that she's kind of a loner, too? You know, tough as nails, doesn't let anyone in, all that."

Ryou blinked, nodding slowly. "You could say that…"

The brown-haired girl smiled knowingly and sat back in her seat. "She had to be. I don't know you very well, Ryou, but from what I've heard from my brother and his friends, you sound like a very sweet guy. I couldn't imagine you doing something to really deserve being yelled at and kicked out."

Ryou's face turned the same shade of red as his plastic tray just about then, and he tried his best to disappear into his sweater. He mumbled a mortified thanks under his breath, suddenly rapt by the sesame seeds on his hamburger bun.

Serenity giggled. "See?" She became quieter. "I think your friend just isn't used to someone caring about to her. She's probably had a rough time, and after whatever happened, she might feel vulnerable, but she doesn't want you to know. She doesn't want to seem weak, and maybe she's lashing out because she doesn't know how else to react."

Ryou stared at her, stunned. "T-that makes sense… Where did you get all that from?"

Serenity smiled and shrugged. "Big brother went through the same thing with Mai. Remember, during that big tournament that Mr. Kaiba held?" She hesitated when she saw Ryou's blank look, "Oh, I'm sorry, you were sick during most of it. She and Joey kind of had a falling out, and… what was his name… Marik did something to her, put her in a coma. When she got better, I think they finally came to an understanding. It's too bad she left. He'd never admit it, but he misses her."

Ryou tried to look like he understood, but he knew Mai even less than Serenity. "I don't know what to do," he admitted, "I feel like I can't do anything without upsetting her. What if she really wants to just be left alone?"

"Be there for her," Serenity reached over, touching the top of his hand, "That's the best thing you could do."

Ryou was silent, lost in thoughts and doubts. He was certain Serenity's advice would have been dead on if he really had just been dealing with a strong-willed woman like Mai, but a girl with the mind of a millennia old, power hungry and _male_ tomb robber might be a bit more difficult.

Serenity finished her food while he mulled, finally standing up. "Whatever happens, Ryou, I wish you luck," she smiled genuinely at him, "She'd have to be blind to not see what a wonderful friend you could be."

Embarrassed, Ryou thanked her for the advice, turning his attention back to his meal. Once he was finished, he promised himself, he'd go back home and make his last stand. He didn't know if he would end up helping her or being stabbed, but whatever happened, he had to do it.

His conviction surprised him, but at least it gave him an appetite. With no more distractions, he finally ate.


	7. Amazed

_Wait, I thought I had this down_

_I built all my cages and my hide-out_

_And I covered all my bases_

_I locked the door, I shut all my windows_

_But you, you creep in like a whisper_

_I try not to listen, but I hear you_

_I'm not really sure just what it is you do_

_But do it again..._

~Poe, 'Amazed'

Ryou took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders, lifted his head, and slowly unlocked the door to his apartment. He had closed his eyes, prepared to take the brunt of a verbal attack, but he blinked them open as he was met with silence.

He considered calling Bakura's name, but his courage failed him and he kept quiet. He slipped into the apartment soundlessly, looking over the living room. The television was off, and the kitchen was untouched. She should have come flying out at him as soon as he entered, right?

His eyes happened upon the floor, and he noticed the book missing. _Curiousier and curioiuser…_

Ryou took off his shoes and set them by the doorway, then headed down the hall on stealthy socked feet. The door to her room was ajar. Did he dare…?

Biting his lip, he pushed the door open just enough to peek through, fully expecting something to be launched at his head.

The most obvious thing was the room's disarray. He winced at the broken picture frames on the floor, but he knew the most important photographs were either in his room or storage. Ryou didn't recognize the jewelry and other valuables scattered across the carpet, and he could only assume they were stolen. She must have noticed him by now, but there was only stillness. Emboldened, he took a step into the small room so he could look at the bed.

Bakura sat atop the disheveled bed, slumped into a curled position that made her look very small. She held the library book in one hand, holding the pages down with her thumb, her other hand cupping her cheek.

Ryou's heart sank. She looked miserable beyond words. Her face was red with tears and scratches, and she still had a bruise on her temple. Struck by her sad appearance, he approached her without considering the consequences.

He forced himself to stop just short of her bed. _What are you_ _**doing**_?_ Do you have a death wish? She'll be furious…_

Ignoring himself, he sat down on the edge of the bed and spoke in his softest tone. "Bakura?"

She lifted her head, staring at him. She didn't seem surprised, or even angry. The only thing in her eyes was an overwhelming look of shame, and it dulled her crimson eyes to a ruddy brown.

"Hey," he softened his voice to a whisper, tilting his head, "You okay…?"

"What's it look like, you idiot?" she croaked quietly, glancing away.

Unperturbed, he inched closer. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head slowly, lowering it until all he could see was a crown of white hair. The book hung limply from her hand.

"I can't read it," came the quiet, bitter voice.

"Is it too much? I'm sorry, I should have gotten something better… Maybe I could go back –"

"I can't _read_ it," she repeated irately, "I can't _read_ anything, apparently!"

Ryou blinked in confusion. "But… how did you play Duel Monsters…?"

"I memorized the art. Besides, I was in _your _head then. Your subconscious brain recognized the characters and told me what they meant, but now this is all just a bunch of scrawling garbage," Bakura muttered, shifting her weight.

"You can speak my language now, though, and you couldn't do that before, right?" Ryou wondered, tilting his head.

"Yes, but I _know_ how to talk, I got the language from you. I never read – all these useless symbols – Who the hell could make any sense of this?" She lifted the book and smacked her free hand against it in pointed frustration. "How can you communicate with _paper_? I don't…" she trailed off, growling to herself and winding her fingers into hair tightly, "I have all these damn half-ideas I absorbed from your mind, but they're broken and jumbled. They told me reading was _easy_. I wouldn't know, I hadn't bothered to try before!"

Ryou thought for a moment, before something came to him. He hesitated, aware of how insulted she might get at his suggestion, but he didn't know what else to do.

"I could… Um…" he started, quietly, looking down, "I could always, well, read it to you…"

Silence fell over the room once again, and Ryou swallowed hard. Great, now she'd probably kick him out into the night, and he didn't have anywhere to stay –

"Fine."

Ryou looked up in disbelief, and saw Bakura staring at him over the edge of her arm. She waved the book at him, eager to be rid of it, and he couldn't help but smile. Finally, he could _do_ something. He sat up a little straighter, taking the book and opening it. "Okay, let's st—"

His gusto was stopped dead in its tracks as he read the table of contents.

Ryou didn't know what he had been expecting, but he already felt himself blushing furiously at what he found. Between frequent moves and being possessed, he had managed to miss _that_ particular unit of health class. He wasn't completely in the dark about female habits and personal life; he had a sister, after all, but he was no expert.

Needless to say, reading this book – aloud – to _Bakura_ – was going to be easier said than done.

"Well?" Bakura's expectant voice broke his horrified trance.

"U-uhm, s-sure, this is, um, just a-a list of subjects in the book…"

"Tell me what they are," Bakura ordered dispassionately, scratching her head.

"All right, um.. one, introduction, two, self-esteem and confidence, three, friendships, uh…" he read off the list, wincing as the chapter titles rapidly expanded to uncomfortable territory, "Four, anatomy and.. nevermind – Five b-boys, five.. um—"

"Why is there a chapter about men in a book about women?" Bakura cut in, and Ryou had never before been so grateful to be interrupted. His relief quickly faded as he tried to think of how to answer her.

"Well… I think that's self-explanatory, because… you know," he squirmed, looking anywhere but at his now-female roommate.

"Who needs a book to teach them how to have sex?" she snorted nonchalantly. If Ryou's face got any warmer, he was afraid his skin might start melting.

"I really don't think most of the stuff in this book will apply at all," Ryou said quickly, hoping to avoid reading the rest of the chapter titles. It was the truth, though, and he started to feel incredibly foolish about the whole thing.

"Why did you _get_ it, in that case?" Bakura asked skeptically.

"I don't know, I just wanted to do something for you," he mumbled without considering his words, and his face became hotter still, "I mean, I, uh, just felt bad for making you upset, and I wanted to cheer you up or help or something, and I didn't know what to do, and…" he kept sputtering, trying to explain himself, but the truth was that he found his brain disturbingly nonfunctional. Had he been so concerned with Bakura that he forgot to think about just what he was doing? It wasn't really like him to make such rash decisions. He looked down, and saw the table of contents again. He cringed and quickly set the book down.

Bakura was staring at him. "You're certainly red in the face."

That just made him go even redder, ducking his head in a desperate attempt to hide his fierce blush.

"What's your problem?" Bakura's tone tried to be taunting, but he could have sworn he heard a note of genuine curiosity in it.

"Sorry," Ryou murmured, covering his nearest cheek with a hand, "I'm just… terribly ignorant about, um, things of that nature," he closed his eyes.

"Oh? Did you ever _notice_ all those girls that crowded around you in school?" Bakura huffed, annoyed with his obliviousness.

He clenched his eyes shut at the memory, wishing he could vanish, "They just liked me because they thought I was mysterious."

"And a pretty boy," Bakura smirked.

"Yes, and a pretty boy," Ryou sighed, remembering, "Once they realized I was only mysterious because I clamed up when anyone so much as looked my way…"

His voice had dipped into self-pity without him realizing it, and he felt a knot in his throat. He couldn't help it that he was so unused to attention, could he? Bakura should know better than anyone why no one would want anything to do with him; she was the one that had put names to all of his bad qualities.

Ryou just felt overwhelmingly stupid, flustered and useless. He waited for Bakura to add to his list of failings, but she said nothing. He raised his head to glance over at her, and was surprised to see her staring downward and looking uncomfortable.

"Bakura? What's…"

She shook her head quickly and closed her eyes. "Nothing," she mumbled in a gloomy tone, then added, more to herself, "I hate this body."

Ryou frowned. How could he choose now, of all times, to feel sorry for himself?

"I'm sure we'll find a way to change you back," he gently assured her, and his hand started to reach out for her. Luckily, he realized what he was doing and quickly pulled it back. His blush returned full force, and then some. Her eyes had been closed the entire time, and he let out a silent sigh of relief.

"Does that book tell you how women deal with their constant, senseless emotional outbursts?" She growled disdainfully, and Ryou frowned.

"That isn't really fair. You've been through a lot and I don't think you're upset just because you're —"

"Just _read._"

Unwilling to lecture her, Ryou started skimming through the book. He finally came to a paragraph that talked about mood swings, and he read over it once before re-reading it aloud.

"Surges in estrogen have been proven to cause spikes in moodiness for some women, but these are usually controllable, unless compounded by stress, depression, personal conflicts, or other outside influences. Commonly, many women feel short-tempered, tired, and generally unhappy during these times. More extreme cases include paranoia, severe depression, and violent outbursts. Certain drugs may ease mood swings, but the best way is to be prepared. Try making a calendar chart of your… um… I think that's all on the subject," Ryou finished the passage, coughing.

There was another period of silence, and Ryou looked to his side when he felt the bed shift from Bakura changing positions. She moved into a reclining position on her back, folding her arms over her chest and staring at the ceiling.

"Keep going," she commanded in an unusually soft voice.

"B-but that's all there is," Ryou's face flushed, looking for any way out of reading the next paragraph.

"I don't care. Read."

"I didn't think you were interested," he countered, confused.

"I couldn't care less what that book says," she closed her eyes, lacing her fingers together, "But I want to hear you."

"W-what?" Ryou's face was getting warm again, "Why?"

"Your accent gets stronger when you're reading," she explained with a huff, as though it should have been obvious.

"I…" he trailed off, dumbfounded, "But you hate my accent…"

Bakura had no reply. Her face sank into a scowl, and she opened one eye to glare at him for questioning her, but it was faint and lackluster.

A tiny smile tugged on Ryou's lips, and he got another idea. "Why don't I get another book?"

"Makes no difference to me," Bakura dismissed him and shut her eye.

Encouraged, Ryou set the library book down nearby and stood, carefully navigating his way through the debris of Bakura's earlier rampage. Normally, he would have stopped to clean the mess, but he was too distracted by the possibility of his roommate willingly tolerating his presence. He wasted no time in getting to his room across the hall, pulling an old favorite off the shelf, a fantasy with a well-worn spine.

He stepped back into Bakura's room, picking up her tossed pillow as an afterthought and sitting down on the far side of the bed. When he offered the pillow, she took it and propped it under her head. Ryou leaned against the headboard, and opened the book to the first page.

He had experience reading aloud; when they were both little, Amane had regularly insisted that he read to her in lieu of their busy parents. Granted, it had been years since he last read to someone, but it came to him easily.

Bakura was mostly silent at the beginning, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Ryou didn't even know if she was listening then, so he started out tentatively, casting furtive glances in her direction. As he fell back into his old routine, though, he became more relaxed. Emotion and flare trickled into his reading, and it wasn't long before he started giving each character a distinct voice and providing sound effects.

This got a low snicker from his companion, and as time passed, she started making actual comments. She had no qualms about interrupting him to question the point of something, or ask for an explanation of something in a roundabout, dismissive manner. Bakura didn't hesitate to voice her opinion, either, and demanded he skip ahead through lengthy exposition or dry dialogue several times. Ryou had to allow himself a tiny smile at the fact Bakura appreciated the antihero thief character, and rooted for the villain. She had taken to likening Ryou to the escaped princess, since they were similarly squeamish and hapless. When Ryou pointed out that the thief and the princess end up together by the end of the book, she scowled and made no more comparisons.

It wasn't long before they were having small discussions at the end of each chapter, on anything from character motivations to poking fun at some part of the story, or reading between the lines. Ryou was delighted to talk about his favorite book, and quietly resisted Bakura's attempts to pry spoilers about later events out of him, even if it meant getting hit with a pillow. Begrudgingly, Bakura had allowed her mood to improve, and soon their conversations bordered on being amicable.

Night overtook the sky outside their window, but aside from retrieving the bedside lamp from where it'd been thrown, they paid no heed, entrenched in an author's fantasy world. But perhaps even more engaging than the story was the fact they had managed to put their angst and animosity aside for the night, let their walls of introversion and defensiveness come down just this once, and managed to forget their troubled history.

By the end of chapter two Bakura had become interested enough listen to Ryou read instead of interrupt, turning onto her side and watching him. He was too caught up in his reading to notice and become self-conscious, but when the end of the chapter came and his companion had nothing to say, he looked over at her.

Bakura's eyes had closed, and her breathing was slow and even. And for once, she had a peaceful expression on her face. It was strange to see her face not distorted by a glare or a snarl, and the long scars that swept over one eye seemed out of place now.

Ryou felt himself smiling, only then realizing he was on the verge of sleep himself. He closed the book and set it down, and being too tired, content and comfortable to be aware of his actions, turned the light off and set his head down right where he was.

Sometime in the night, his sleeping form moved to rest its head on the lone pillow, and found something warm and moving instead. His subconscious decided this was far more comfortable, and he soundly embraced the body attached to his makeshift, fluffy pillow to keep it from squirming away. His captive's breath tickled his throat, but stilled and leaned against him.

He'd never had more pleasant dreams.


	8. Somewhere In Between

_This is over my head_

_But underneath my feet_

_'Cause by tomorrow morning_

_I'll have this thing beat_

_And everything will be back to _

_The way that it was_

_I wish that it was just that easy_

_I'm waiting for tonight_

_Then waiting for tomorrow_

_And I'm somewhere in between _

_What is real and just a dream..._

~Lifehouse, 'Somewhere In Between'

Bakura's sleep was irritated by something twitching against her nose. She grumbled and tilted her head to the side, setting her cheek on the smooth, warm surface where her nose had been. But the faint beating was persistent, constant, like a pulse –

Her eyes flew open when she realized that was exactly what it was. She became aware of a weight on top of her head, breath flicking her hair back and forth. Someone was leaning against her bodily and had her trapped in a sleepy hug.

She jerked her head back violently, and Ryou's head fell onto the real pillow. He mumbled plaintively, but didn't stir, nuzzling into his new pillow instead. The thief stared at him with bated breath, slowly waking up enough to comprehend what was happening. A range of emotions welled up in her chest, and she didn't know which one to pick.

There was a sense of discomfort and unfamiliarity at the sensation of being forced into such close contact with someone. There was anger, at him for daring to impede upon her space so brazenly, at herself because she obviously had not woken up or discouraged him. Her first reaction was to try and thrash out of his grasp and get away from his suffocating proximity, but he just tightened his grip. With that came a growing horror as bits and pieces of her earlier nightmare replayed in her head, and she started to panic, ready to shove him away and run…

_It's just Ryou_, some more rational side of her brain reminded her, trying to quell her dread, _it's just Ryou, it's just Ryou, it's just Ryou…_

The internal mantra managed to calm her just enough to listen to its arguments. She knew her nightmare was a blatant mischaracterization of her roommate, but she couldn't shake quite shake off her fear. Her heart rammed against her ribcage.

And then, Bakura's mind chose to remind her of a more pleasant memory, for once. She remembered last night. The day had been a miserable waste, but as it stretched into night, Ryou became tolerable. She didn't know how or why he had subtly transformed, but he did, and because of it, they actually got along for once. It felt… different.

_You've spent enough time in his head to know he's harmless._

It hadn't been so bad, listening and talking to him. It got her mind off her weakness, her frustration, and her horrible new body. Even if Ryou was bigger than her now, he still acted the same. It was hard to mistrust someone so soft-spoken and pathetic, especially when you knew their thought processes inside and out.

So she could just add 'clingy' to her growing list of insults for him. He probably wasn't even aware of his actions and would likely be utterly humiliated if he found out. _It was late last night, you both just fell asleep. The idiot thinks you're an overgrown doll or security blanket or something. _

Bakura slowly pulled her arms free and massaged the sleep out of her eyes, letting her breathing return to normal. She was too tired to throw a fit, anyway. Or had the better mood she had succumbed to last night carried on into today? When her vision cleared, she cast a scowling, uncertain glare at her bunkmate.

It faltered when she saw his expression of quiet happiness, a small smile on his lips. It was genuine, too, not the smile he forced onto his face in a pathetic attempt to cover up some silent pain. It wasn't something she saw often. His long, half-tamed white hair fell over his face. Years ago, he looked nearly as feminine as she now did, but time was catching up to her host. His features were losing some of their softness and becoming more defined, and his appearance straddled the line between _pretty_ and _handsome_.

She'd never say it aloud, but she had thought it often enough, even when she was male. _Dammit… why couldn't he have been the one to get turned into a woman? It'd certainly suit him better, and I don't think I'd __**mind **__having a female version of Ryou in my bed…_

A slight smirk crept across her face, until a lower, taunting thought flitted across the back of her mind, far less kind than the voice that had calmed her.

_You don't seem to be minding this much, either,_ it pointed out.

She bristled, but it continued, undaunted. _Look at yourself. You go from trying to attack him and throwing things at him, to letting him cradle you in bed? _

Bakura set her jaw and tried to dismiss the thought. _There's no need for me to act rashly. I'm getting sick of being flighty. _

Her internal antagonist was relentless. _Still under the delusion that you're in control? You're still weaker than him and you can't necessarily predict him. He's obviously not that scared of you if he's doing this_.

Anxiety trickled down her spine, but she became determined to ignore her grating demons. _I know he doesn't mean anything by it._

The tone became more mocking. _You know him? You __**trust**_ _him. You've never trusted anyone outside yourself, and you're going to break that millennia-old tradition? Just because he's quiet and pretty and nice? _

Bakura seethed, quietly cursing the voice. She had been in her first decent mood for days before it started its annoying little jabs and skepticism.

It was amused. _I'm sorry, did I interrupt? Heh heh. So he has your trust. What are you going to give him next, hmm…?_

Disturbed, Bakura muttered and leaned her head as far away from Ryou as possible. The voice was getting to her, whether she liked it or not. _I'm sure there's some way to get him to let go without waking him up, and he'll never be any the wiser. There's no reason not to approach this situation calmly –_

The voice that used to be her own laughed at her. _Except for the fact you're entwined with your former vessel like a pair of sleeping lovers. Or were you too comfortable to realize that he's not just holding you? _

Confused, Bakura glanced at Ryou, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The crueler voice snickered. _He doesn't even need to be your host to give your limbs a mind of their own…_

Bakura quickly looked down and, mortified, saw just what it was talking about. During the night, her leg had crept up and hooked itself around the back of Ryou's knee. It had pulled his leg close, almost possessively, and tilted his hips so that they were snug and parallel with her own. He wasn't the one who had made their position seem questionable, _she_ was.

She hissed in humiliated surprise, kicking her leg free and pulling out of his arms with a burst of strength, caution be damned. He started to stir, rubbing his head, and Bakura hastily stumbled to her feet. She winced as she stepped on fallen glass and broken valuables, but nevertheless made her way to the door quickly, relieved to find it open. Ducking through it, she fled to the living room and all but fell onto the couch.

Disgust and embarrassment roiled around her gut, joining with early morning hunger to make her feel ill. _I need to find some way to change back, __**now**__._ She poured all her energy and conviction into that thought in an effort to avoid thinking about anything else, clutching herself._ This goddamn body is doing things to my head…_

"Mmm… Bakura?"

Her thoughts froze at the sound of Ryou's sleepy voice, but didn't move her head, staring firmly at the back of the couch.

"You awake?" His voice came closer, and she could feel his shadow fall over her. She gripped one of the stray pillows on the couch, and did her best impersonation of a corpse.

When he set a hand on her shoulder, though, her shrill sound of protest betrayed her. Bakura jerked her shoulder away, turning her head to direct her deathly glare at him.

Ryou was too sleepy to be impressed, though, blinking down at her. He looked like he'd forgotten what he was doing. Instead, he tilted his head to one side lazily, smiling like a happy drunk.

"Sorry," he mumbled apologetically, though he was too out of it to sound sincere. Ryou sat down on the edge of the couch, right against her, and the smile never left his face as he stared down at her.

She dug her nails deeper into the pillow. What was he _doing_? Did he know what happened? What did he _want_? Bakura tried to swallow her heart. Her face felt hot.

"Didn't mean to fall asleep in your bed," he yawned, stretching his arms to the side, and opened one eye to look down at her, "Did you sleep out here all night?"

"Yes," she muttered quickly, hunching her shoulders and wordlessly demanding he get the hell away. Ryou didn't listen, too busy looking like a puppy delighted to have found its master. His hand ended up on her shoulder again, patting it absently. Bakura's irritation and anxiety grew with every fond touch, and she glared at him, incredulous.

His hand apparently got too heavy to lift, and he settled for idly massaging the area of her upper arm he'd chosen to victimize. Ryou seemed completely unaware of his hand's actions, focused his roommate and smiling tiredly. He was never a morning person, but being this much of a zombie was unusual, even for him.

And he was just _staring_. Was she wrong, earlier? He was a teenage boy, after all. In truth, she couldn't really gauge how he felt towards females, since he stifled himself with shyness and politeness. He was withdrawn from strangers or acquaintances of any gender. Had he repressed himself so completely that even Bakura had not known what he really thought? Creeping revulsion crawled over her skin, but it ebbed when she willed herself to meet his gaze.

There was nothing but dopey happiness in his eyes. Maybe, in his half-cationic state, some part of Ryou's brain had mistaken her for his beloved sister or some long-lost friend. He swayed slightly, and looked like he might fall back asleep, and undoubtedly resume what she had so rudely interrupted earlier.

"Let go of me," Bakura finally croaked in a tone far less intimidating than she had intended. Ryou finally blinked out of his trance and removed his hand, and she let out a silent sigh of relief.

"Um," Ryou stuttered and stood quickly, rubbing his forehead. A pink flush washed over his cheeks, "S-sorry, I… uh, I'm going to go get dressed," he mumbled, jerkily motioning at the bathroom over his shoulder. He stuffed the hand that had been kneading her deep into his pocket. With that, he made himself scarce.

Bakura allowed herself to exhale, turning her head to look back at the inside of the couch. She studied the fabric halfheartedly, trying to shrug off a disturbing sensation.

The part of her arm Ryou had been fondling felt cold.

She muttered and rubbed herself there, ruffling the sleeve of the uniform top she was still wearing. Bakura glanced down at her clothes. It was the same outfit she had worn for… what was it, three days straight? She grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. The thief was not known for her hygiene, but even she felt grimy. Or was it just that the sensation of Ryou holding her seemed to cling to every inch of the fabric…?

She ground her teeth and pulled herself upright, sweeping her bangs back with an irritated hand. It was time for a change of clothes, then maybe a shower to wash away the lingering memories of the past few days. Maybe a fresh outfit and the water would clear her mind of these muddled emotions. Satisfied that she'd found a short-term solution, she made her way back into her room, walking carefully past the broken junk. She nudged things aside with her socked foot, forging a path to the pile of pilfered clothing that acted as her dresser.

Bakura sifted through the pile, tossing things that she recognized as dirty. Most of the clothing was Ryou's, articles she had found in the drier and taken for her convenience. The former spirit quickly grew tired with Ryou's bland, baggy clothing, though, and had managed to steal a few things on her old excursions.

She lifted up some jeans which were still neatly folded and untouched. Bakura remembered stealing them from a department store not too long ago. She set them to one side, and came upon one of Ryou's loose, dark brown sweaters and scowled, wondering why she had taken that. The thief shook her head. It didn't matter now, and she quietly reflected that it would at least cover her up.

Bakura swallowed and shrugged off Ryou's coat. Almost automatically, she started unbuttoning the shirt she wore beneath, but she saw the long gouge in the fabric and hesitated. It took all her will to suppress the illness that welled up in her gut, and she realized the real reason she had not changed her clothes in days.

She did not want to see the full extent of what Marik's penalty game had done to her. It was bad enough she could feel the changes, bad enough that her arms felt thin and stripped of all their musculature and strength, bad enough that her hips felt considerably rounder, that her neck felt thinner, that her hands and feet were so much smaller, that bizarre weights pulled on her chest whenever she stood or sat or walked or did _anything_…

She didn't want to take off her clothes and find the nude body of some thin, weak young woman where her – _his_ – body should have been.

But she couldn't wear these clothes the rest of her natural life, either. Bakura bristled at her own thoughts and shook her head. _Not the rest of my life. This is temporary. I __**will**__ find a way to defeat that wretch and get my body and my power back… until then, I'll just stay here._

_With Ryou,_ that lower part of her brain added in a strange, purring tone. It was silenced with a growling snort.

She closed her eyes tightly and unbuttoned her over-shirt, flinging it on the bed. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and removed her third and final shirt, and felt the torn, useless bandages hang off of her chest. Bakura cringed and considered trying to salvage them, but it was hopeless. She dared to open her eyes by a fraction of an inch, pushing the layers of bandages away.

Oddly, the first thing she noticed was a long, thin red slash. The area was tender, and there was some dried blood smudged on her skin, but it was laughable compared to past wounds. Much more unsettling was the presence of her…

_Breasts_, Bakura dredged the word up from the unwilling recesses of her mind, hesitant to give a name to her new features, _goddamn breasts. _

They would have been fine if they hadn't been hanging off of _her_. They didn't seem like much, probably far less obtrusive than Bakura thought they were. But as it was, they only served to remind her of her new body. Every minute of every hour, they were there, keeping her up at night trying to find a comfortable position, making her feel like a naked whore, advertising her gender and all that it had to offer.

She shuddered and pulled on the oversized brown sweater at record speed, shaking her hair free and crossing her arms tightly. Bakura gathered her courage for a moment, before pulling down her old jeans. Her boxers sagged ridiculously, until they caught on her hips.

The thief didn't dare spare the changes down _there_ a moment of thought. Though the absence of familiar anatomy was almost as irritating as the presence of unfamiliar parts, it was easier to deal with. Physically, at least. If Bakura had allowed herself to think about it, her surreal emasculation would have become painfully symbolic of her loss of power, but she was determined to concentrate on her desire for new clothes. She pulled them on, almost angrily, and relaxed as soon as her pants were in place.

And then her pants slid down, before reaching the apex of her hips. It was far too low down, and she would not be comfortable so long as her pants were any lower than her navel.

Bakura swore. Modern clothing and sizes were something Ryou had spent some time explaining to her, though she understood the basics by virtue of having lived in his head She didn't see the difference between men and women's jeans, and had to steal a lot of clothes before she found a size that was a sufficient combination of tight and comfortable. And even then, that size was no real indicator of how well they would fit. It just figured that as soon as she thought she had mastered the maddening modern system of dress, she'd be _gifted_ with an entirely new lower body.

She stormed out of her room and jerked her pants up angrily. Heedless of her wrath, they swiftly sank back down to hug her hips. She glared down at then, yanking them once more and failing to see Ryou until she crashed into him.

"Stupid jeans!" She snarled into his shirt, cursing the wrong thing. The boy stumbled back in surprise, and seemed considerably more aware. Bakura blinked, smelling fresh shampoo. She tilted her head back to see him.

Ryou's hair was damp and held back in a ponytail, a feeble attempt to reduce the number of drips that fell on his shirt. With his bangs out of his face, he didn't look quite so feminine. Bakura frowned uneasily. She could almost deal with thought of Ryou touching and petting and _hugging_ her if she could forget he was male, but…

"A-are you okay?" He blinked as she struggled with her pants and refused to look at him. She only hissed and looked up at him for a fleeting moment.

"Give me a belt," she ordered, and Ryou seemed to consider for a moment, scratching his cheek.

"I don't think I have any belts… well, the kind you mean, anyway," he added, sheepishly.

"I don't care what kind it is, just give it to me!" Bakura snapped, hiking her jeans up once again.

"It's not a normal belt, I mean, it's just –"

Bakura's fiery glare was enough to silence him, and he relented, sighing. He started towards his room, and she trailed him, impatient.

Ryou nudged his door open and headed to his bed, crouching down to peer beneath it. Bakura waited, leaning against the doorway and scanning her roommate's bedroom. It wasn't unfamiliar, since she had been here in Ryou's body plenty of times, but since they had separated there was no reason for her to visit.

The walls and carpet were dark, and sunlight filtered in through a solitary window. There were no posters on the walls – only bookcases and desks. Books lay in piles across the room, his collection of Duel Monsters cards sat proudly on a desk, and a series of boxes and screens Ryou called a computer stood to one side. Bored and curious, Bakura wandered over to the cards, looking through them. She recognized most of them by picture alone since she had her own deck memorized that way, but plenty were unknown to her. She stared at the stacks of symbols scrawled across the top and bottom in the vain hope that they might render themselves comprehensible once again.

A miserable look crossed Bakura's face. She felt _stupid_, and it was not a feeling she enjoyed. In her times, no one but the scribes had been expected to be able to read, but she had been living in a highly literate society for the past few years. The cards were readable to mere children, but they were now beyond her grasp.

"Here it is, but I really don't think it's what you're looking for… Bakura?"

Ryou's voice shook her out of her melancholy. Defeated, she set the cards back down, lowering her head.

"What's wrong?" he wondered quietly. She heard his soft footsteps, sensed him approaching, but she did nothing besides stare at the desk. How could he see that anything was wrong? She was silent, simply standing there, and she was certain her face was emotionless. Her old host wasn't good at reading people, since that required looking at their face, and he was more apt to stare at their feet.

_Ah, but he knows you…_ Her old voice snickered silently.

"Up until this point," she muttered aloud to interrupt it, narrowing her eyes at the cards, "I could blame all of my weaknesses on Marik."

A warm hand fell on her shoulder. "If it really bothers you that much, I could try to teach you how to read…"

Bakura's hackles rose at his offer, "You, _my_ mentor? Don't insult me, I'll teach myself. And if you want to keep that hand, I suggest you _stop touching me!_" She flung his hand away, jerking free and turning to snarl in his direction.

Ryou stepped back, looking hurt. In his other hand, he held a long, cloth belt, made of a heavy purple material. It was void of any buckles, holes or decoration, until the end, where there were two black stripes. Its odd appearance was enough to startle her out of her anger, and she furrowed her brow.

"What kind of belt is _that_?"

Ryou glanced at the strip of cloth. "It's a _gi_ belt… Those uniforms have really baggy pants, and it's also a symbol of rank."

The former spirit stared at him blankly.

"I… used to take martial arts," he added, sheepishly, glancing back at the plastic bin he had pulled out from beneath his bed. Bakura walked past him, peering at the contents of the box, which she had never seen before.

There were a few other belts, wound into tight little spirals, as well as some folded uniforms with the name of some dojo plastered across the back. But her eyes were drawn to what lay beside them; small trophies, of various sizes, the silver and gold glinting in the sunlight. Ryou looked embarrassed, and quickly put the belt back in the box, closing the lid and shoving it under his bed.

"Martial arts," she repeated the phrase, looking at him with stoic curiosity. The words rang a bell in the bits of memory she had borrowed from Ryou. "You fought?"

"I… well, yes, but it was mostly just display, all for sport, breaking blocks and performing katas and all that—" He mumbled dismissively, looking away. "It was a long time ago."

Bakura stared at him a long time, and he became uncomfortable, scratching the back of his neck.

"Why did I not know this?" She half wondered, half demanded.

"I was… well, I took it up after Amane and mother died, long before I got the Ring… after I got it, and father and I started moving around the country, I fell back on my lessons, but when I did manage to take them… I was able to block you out," he finished softly. "They gave me confidence."

Bakura could hardly believe him. Where did he get the strength to block her out so completely, so much so that she remained ignorant about this secret life he led? He sat down on the bed, his head hung.

"I was good at it, I guess," he set a hand on his arm self-consciously, pretending to attend to an itch, "If I had stayed with it, I could have gotten a black belt, but…"

"Why did you stop?" She frowned, still unable to comprehend the notion of her harmless little vessel being a trophy-winning fighter, "If you had that kind of ability, why didn't you ever stand up for yourself in school?"

He was silent, and his features were lined with sadness and guilt. He shook his head slowly, and hair that had pulled free from his ponytail swayed before his face.

He answered both questions at once. "I didn't want to hurt people."

Bakura almost rolled her eyes, but his voice sounded so wounded and miserable that she felt a twang of sympathy instead. "You idiot," she said, but it was quiet and lackluster. It explained a few things, though.

When she had first possessed his body, she loathed being saddled with such a weak host, but she had quietly marveled at it after the first physical fight she had in it. It had reflexes it should not have had, and defensive moves that seemed trained into the muscles themselves. Back then, Bakura had simply chalked it up to her own ancient fighting ability, but now she wasn't so sure.

_Must be how he knocked Marik out, too,_ she noted, looking down at him.

"I thought it was me making those people get hurt and disappear," he mumbled, "I thought it was me putting them into comas… I thought I was dangerous… I felt like a weapon."

_Of course you were dangerous,_ she almost spoke aloud, but something held her back.

Why did her host seem so different now? Learning that he had the makings of a warrior was only the icing on a confusing cake. He seemed more talkative than he used to, more daring. He certainly never would have dared touch her when she was male, no matter how tired he was. He seemed more… comfortable around her, but in a way he himself also seemed more unfamiliar.

_Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do… perhaps you should have paid more attention to the boy you possessed, instead of merely stealing his body._

Still, he was Ryou. The new things she learned about him only made her more baffled, and part of her was still quietly afraid of him. But at the same time, he seemed warmer, kinder, more concerned and stupidly tolerant than ever, and she couldn't imagine why. She was weaker now - there was no point in him putting up with her screaming and name-calling. If Ryou had done a _fraction_ of what she had, she would not have hesitated to put him in his place. Had she left such an impression on his mind that he didn't dare turn against her?

_Or maybe, just maybe,_ the voice sneered, _Maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe he really does __**care**_.

Bakura watched him sit on the bed and try to smooth out the deep, trembling frown the painful memories had brought to his face. A week ago, she would have laughed in his face and ridiculed his emotions. But he had been silent when she cried, so the least she could do was repay the favor, especially considering she had been the one to give him this particular trauma.

_And maybe you're starting to care, too._

"Stop that," she instructed in a low tone. Almost unconsciously, she sat on the bed beside him. He turned his head away from her, but she could hear his breath hitch slightly despite his efforts. Bakura couldn't understand what was wrong with him. Hadn't he been grinning like an idiot moments ago? Seeing him like this bothered some part of her mind she couldn't name. Agitated, she reached out and shook his shoulder roughly. "Did you hear me, boy? I said stop that!"

Ryou slowly turned his head to look down at her. His eyes were clouded with tears, misery dragging his features down even farther. "S-sorry."

Bakura blinked, and felt herself frowning. She gave his shoulder another shove, but somehow it came out far more gentle than she wanted. Ryou swayed, confusion joining his sadness. He didn't know what she wanted. She scowled when she realized that she didn't, either, until her old voice whispered it to her.

_It's quite touching that you want him to be happy again, but do you honestly think you can bully him into it?_

"I suppose I don't really need a belt," she mumbled and looked at her pants, eager to interrupt the awkward moment. She heard Ryou sniffle, and they were both silent.

"Is that my sweater you're wearing?" he wondered in a slightly ragged tone.

"Yes, have a problem with it?" she replied defensively, pulling the sweater in question down.

"No, not at all," Ryou sniffed and smiled faintly, "I've just… never seen you wear a sweater before."

"So?" She narrowed a skeptical eye at him. She could tell that wasn't what he wanted to say.

He shrugged limply and trained his eyes on his feet, mumbling. "…it looks nice."

Bakura's only response was a disbelieving silence. Her mouth opened, but when she realized she had no words, she closed it again. Part of her felt strangely insulted and indignant at his comment, and she almost said as much when a stray thought stopped her.

_Just because you're repulsed by your body doesn't mean he has to be. Maybe Marik was right, eh? Your long, wild white hair, your red, slanted eyes with lashes that were long even as a male –_

"I don't mind you borrowing my sweater, but, um," Ryou's voice thankfully cut into her thoughts, "We… well, maybe we should go out and get some new clothes for you. I mean, we can't exactly keep sharing a wardrobe…"

Bakura stood up, taken aback by his suggestion. "Do you expect me to stay like this?" she shrilled, horror sinking into her chest. She didn't want to entertain the thought that she would remain female for even a moment. She did not want to get new clothes for her new body, she did not want to wear anything intended for women, and most of all, she did not want to _'look nice'_…

Ryou grimaced and held his hands up, shaking his head, "It was just a suggestion. I mean, we only have to get enough to last for as long as you're changed—"

But his defense fell on deaf ears. She stood up. "Why the hell can't we keep sharing clothes? Nothing's changed!"

"D-don't you want something that fits better?" Ryou asked shakily, motioning to her pants.

She growled, clutching the waistband of her jeans. "These are _fine!_ " Bakura lied. The pants were not exactly comfortable, since they hadn't been sized to accommodate hips as wide as hers now were, but they weren't torturous. "So they're a little low, that doesn't mean I have to go out and dress up like a wench!"

Ryou stood up, shaking his head and reaching for his panicking roommate. "I'm not talking about buying you a prom gown, just some jeans of your own – you, um," his eyes flicked to her chest for a fleeting moment, "You might want a bra, too…"

She hissed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and hoping that her humiliated blush wasn't obvious. His face crinkled with guilt as the thief backtracked away from him. "We don't have to go anywhere fancy, there's a mall with plenty of clothing stores a few blocks away."

"I am not going out in public! I'm not going to wear – I'm not going to let them _see_ – _don't look at me like that!_" Bakura tried to catch her breath in the midst of her sputtering rant, and found a knot her throat,"I-I don't want…" Her voice hitched violently, and she covered her mouth, her glare becoming desperate and bleary.

Ryou looked at her sadly, but this time, his sadness was for her, not himself. For a long moment, the only sound was Bakura's strangled choking. Ryou took a tentative step towards her, and she poised to lunge for him.

"Bakura, please, calm down…" he pleaded, tilting his head and coming within her range. She swung out wildly at him, but he managed to catch her fist, shaking his head, "This isn't a problem you can solve with denial and violence."

Bakura thrashed and kicked at him, snarling unintelligibly. Ryou winced as she assaulted his shins and pounded his shoulder, but took the beating with closed eyes. She attacked him like he was the source of all her problems, and he just stood there, waiting for her to wear herself out. His silence only fueled her rage as she lashed out blindly, too bleary-eyed to aim her punches, but each haphazard strike drained her. It took too much energy to cry and attack him at the same time, to try and push back all these unfamiliar emotions, to ignore the taunting, teasing voice in her head. She soon sagged and slumped against her former vessel, and felt him catch her shoulders.

It wasn't quite a hug, but it was close. Bakura was too mentally exhausted to fight him off, though, her tears running into his shirt. She dug her fingers into the cloth, prepared to shove him away, but she couldn't will the strength out of her thin, weary muscles. She was left gripping his shirt, winding her fingers into the material until her knuckles were white.

"Just go away," she mumbled in a raspy whisper, even as she clutched his shirt and hung her head, inadvertently setting her forehead against him. Ryou tightened his grip for a moment, before removing his hands with some hesitation, stepping back. Without a word, he gently pried her hands from his shirt and turned, leaving the room.

Bakura blinked stupidly after him, watching him go. Since when did he heed her commands, just like that? He hadn't so much as shaken his head. What had she done differently?

And why did a sharp sense of loneliness stab her in the chest as soon as he left?

"Landlord!" she cried out plaintively at the empty air, in a tone that was both demanding and pitiful.

_Listen to yourself. How pathetic, mewling for him like a lost kitten._

Bakura covered her mouth to prevent any more outbursts, furious, agonized and confused. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was the presence of her old host suddenly so important? When she was male, she had ignored his existence until it was time for him to make supper. Whenever he tried to reach out to her, she had either laughed and insulted him, or got angry and insulted him. He had never been more than a pest, tolerable only because he provided food and information.

Granted, he had been a pretty pest…

A soft wail threatened to leave Bakura's throat, and she kept her hands clamped over her mouth soundly, sinking helplessly against the wall. The last things she wanted to remember were the thoughts of her old host that had crossed her mind occasionally, usually late at night. Egyptian culture had no specific taboos against homosexuality, and Bakura wasn't one to give a damn about what society thought anyway. Being granted with a teenage body meant that she once again felt the demands of testosterone-fueled, adolescent virility, though she had managed to keep a tight rein on her hormones. Still, the thought of seducing her landlord was almost irresistible, and the only thing that kept her from doing it was that she felt loathe to give that much attention to such a weakling that she had worked long and hard to keep distant.

At the moment, though, such thoughts singularly horrified her.

"Bakura?" Ryou's voice drifted into her thoughts, and she jerked to attention. Ryou stood in the doorway, holding a plate with bacon and toast sizzling on it.

"I thought you might feel better if you had some breakfast," he said sheepishly, walking over to where she had curled up against the wall. He kneeled and smiled, offering the plate with one hand and a fork with the other.

Bakura stared at the food, her stomach growling at the sight and smell of the greasy meat. She was starving, apparently, but had been too upset to know it. How the hell had Ryou? Dumbfounded, she took the plate and channeled her frustration into the bacon, impaling it on her fork.

Ryou sat beside her, watching her eat. She was slightly uncomfortable with this, especially considering her earlier thoughts, but she was too focused on eating to be bothered. His words rang in her head. _You look nice…_

Bakura swallowed hard and glanced at his eyes again, dreading the thought of seeing that hungry shade of violet… but once again, there was nothing but appreciative happiness, probably just glad that she was enjoying his cooking. And as she bit down on the last scrap of toast, she had to begrudgingly admit that she did feel better. She had new clothes, food in her stomach, and had aired out her emotions with a combination of tears and violence.

_And you have your precious landlord. Heh._

She winced down at the plate, setting it aside. Maybe some fresh air wouldn't hurt, either. Bakura closed her eyes.

"Fine, I'll go," she muttered, and Ryou smiled even more. "But," she interrupted in a warning tone, "if I see any hint of Pharaoh or his cheerleaders, I'm leaving. You understand?"

Ryou nodded eagerly, gathering up her plate. "Why don't you go take a shower, and I'll get my own breakfast and see how much money we have to spend, okay?"

Bakura shrugged dismissively and stood. She was not looking forward to taking a shower, but somehow, things didn't seem quite as bad as they had been moments earlier.

Ryou patted her shoulder, and for once she did not mind.


	9. Changing Rooms

Ryou was glad to see that Bakura seemed much better. She still walked hunched and defensive, a desperate attempt to make her breasts less visible, but her face was free of tears or pain or serious anger. He let Bakura walk ahead of him, though she didn't stray far, pausing and snapping at him to hurry up when he lagged a few feet behind.

He didn't understand why she had acted so erratically that morning, demanding he cheer up one moment and violently taking her frustrations out on him the next. She had a haunted look in her eye all throughout her shuffle of irritation, avoidance, rage and desperation, and it made him wonder.

_The most demonic of us must have the most inner demons,_ Ryou noted, watching her glare at pedestrians and fold her arms in what almost looked like a self-hug. He couldn't think of her as terribly demonic at the moment, though. As much as her words hurt, he knew she was scared and upset, convinced the world was out to get her. Given the last few days, who could blame her?

The Bakura he used to know had been so proud and arrogant, dangerous and untouchable. Almost too proud. Ryou wondered if the thief was compensating for some hidden weakness or failing. But like some twisted deliverer of karma, Marik shattered all the stilts of her pride, and she had fallen down in the dirt and become everything she had accused others of being. For someone with an ego the size Bakura's, it must hurt immensely.

Ryou knew most people would chide him for sympathizing with his roommate, insisting that she got what she deserved, but he couldn't bring himself to be so vindictive. Were her crimes really that awful?

True, Bakura had possessed him, stolen his free will, tried to kill his friends and mutilated his body on several occasions…

All of that _aside,_ he couldn't deny that she _had_ made his life a hell of a lot more interesting.

If he had never gotten the Ring, he never would have come to Domino, never would have met Yugi and his friends, never had those adventures, never have encountered famous people like Seto Kaiba and Pegasus Crawford. He never would have experienced real magic, and never would have gotten a neigh constant companion that was an ancestor, a master thief and sorcerer, a spirit, an ancient Egyptian, and his dark side, all in one…

Yet, underneath all those titles, he thought quietly as he looked down at the short girl walking beside him, was a person. And that was something he could only realize after Marik's penalty game had torn down the walls of prowess and mystique that surrounded Bakura's old form, an agonizing punishment which brought to light a range of emotions he had never imagined Bakura capable of experiencing. Bakura was almost as mundane as Ryou, now.

Her swift, almost inhuman red eyes glowered at him past the sharp angles of her white bangs. But he knew she couldn't summon a monster to attack him, couldn't call upon dark powers to cloud his mind and steal his memories, couldn't even loom over him. She was normal now, stripped of her powers and darkness.

She was _real_, and somehow, that made her more fascinating than ever.

xxxxxxx

Bakura and Ryou stared at the dazzling array of denim spread out in front of them. It came in every shade, from black to rich blue to strategically and fashionably faded. Mannequins modeled the most expensive jeans, while women thinner than Bakura lounged in leggy poses across gleaming, full color photographic displays. The store was bright, and pop music hummed muffled through speakers in the ceiling. Posters parading the latest in fall fashions, decorated with stylized leaves in all the traditional autumn colors, hung from the displays.

"Is that supposed to be attractive?" Bakura scoffed at one of the photographs, "I can see her damn ribs."

"Standards of beauty have changed over time, I guess," Ryou shrugged, indifferent to the models. He picked up the nearest pair of jeans and looked at the tag, puzzled.

"I have no idea how female pants sizes work," he admitted quietly, and Bakura rolled her eyes.

"I don't care about the sizes, I'll just try them on until I find a pair that fits," she snorted, snatching the jeans out of his hand and looking at their thin legs with scrutiny, then handed them back to him. "Nothing tight," she muttered.

"I think there were some baggy jeans over there," Ryou motioned.

"Fine, let's just go and get this over with," Bakura tossed the pants back on the shelf carelessly. Ryou straightened them out as she left, following her through the unfamiliar rows of clothing. There weren't nearly as many styles in the men's department - the biggest choice there to make was between black or blue. Here, jeans came in every color, with a variety of swirling sequin patterns and flared cuffs and more pockets than anyone could ever possibly use. Bakura eventually found a few pairs that didn't disgust her, and Ryou pointed her to the changing rooms and quickly told her how to use them. She disappeared, and he was left stranded in the women's clothing section, waiting uncomfortably.

"Ryou?" a vaguely familiar female voice asked of Ryou's back, and he turned around, seeing Serenity. He waved nervously, and she smiled, tilting her head.

"Are you lost?" she giggled softly, "This is the women's department…"

"Oh, um, no, I'm just," Ryou waved at the changing rooms, "waiting for someone."

"Your friend?" Serenity wondered, and Ryou nodded quickly, distracted. But a quick glance at Serenity made him realize something. Here was a guide to this world of women's clothing, one that had been witness to some of the strangeness the Millennium Items could produce. Maybe she would understand their predicament, or at least not think them insane or pranksters. But he wouldn't tell the outright truth if he could avoid it, thinking desperately to come up with something believable.

"Serenity, ah… My friend and I have kind of a problem," he started, tentatively, and Serenity seemed to be listening. "We… Well… We don't know much about women's clothing, or… well… maybe you could help."

"Aw… I'm guessing she's a late bloomer?" Serenity smiled, and Ryou scratched his head, looking anywhere but at the undergarments section.

"You could say that," he mumbled.

"Didn't her mom ever bother to teach her about that sort of thing?" the younger Joey's smile became a concerned frown.

"No, she… her mother died a long time ago." _Well, it's not exactly a lie,_ Ryou consoled himself. _I wonder just what kind of life Bakura had back in Egypt…_

"Oh… that's too bad," Serenity noted sadly, shaking her head, "What do you guys want to know?"

"I guess… um… like I said, anything about… you know…" he all but squeaked, feeling his cheeks warm.

"Underwear?" Serenity supplied with an amused smile, "Any idea what her bust size she is?" she asked casually, heading towards a display strung with lacy black and white brassieres.

"W-what? No!" Ryou yelped quickly, face flush with embarrassment.

Serenity giggled softly at his modesty, "Well, can't you give me a roundabout estimate? Cup-size at least?"

"I-I have no idea," Ryou whimpered truthfully. "Bakura – she's not – that big, I mean…" He mumbled and turned his eyes to the floor, worrying at his sleeve with his antsy fingers. He was not one to eye women's chests to try and divine their bra size, but it was difficult to _not_ notice his roommate's new features, particularly since they were unbound by anything –

"She's related to you?" Serenity furrowed her brow, obviously still trying to solve the puzzle of Ryou's relation to his friend.

Ryou froze, caught. He was usually a private person, but the events of the last few days were almost too strange to keep to himself. He hated lying, he knew he was no good at it, and trying to dance around the truth would only result in him landing on his face and probably messing things up even more than they were previously. Ryou sighed, defeated.

"Listen, this is going to sound insane, and you have to promise not to tell anyone…"

xxxxxxx

Bakura stepped out of her stall, muttering and leaving all but one pair of jeans behind her. She had been highly tempted just to put them on and walk out, but Ryou would undoubtedly notice and foil her plans. She quickly scanned the aisles for him, and she narrowed her eyes. He was not where she left him.

She tried to smother her creeping anxiety with annoyance as she strode angrily past racks of clothing. Distant, familiar voices reached her ears, and she turned around one display to a more secluded part of the clothes store. She was almost disgusted by the faint sense of relief that eased into her consciousness when she saw Ryou, but it was lost when she saw he was with someone.

Bakura recognized the girl he was talking to privately. She was the blond dolt's sister, the girl who had been so confused when, atop that blimp, kind, quiet Ryou's eyes turned red and his voice dipped into what could only be called a sinister tone.

But even as Bakura possessed her host, she had felt him scanning the watching crowd, quietly agonized by the fact everyone was rooting for Yugi and barely aware of what was happening. As Bakura battled, Ryou had silently looked over the familiar and unfamiliar faces and thought the whole thing some kind of drug-hazed, hospital-induced dream. He had lingered on Serenity, quickly identifying her as Joey's sister, with a markedly different personality from the outgoing Tea or the self-assured Mai. She had seemed soft-spoken and shy, like him, and there was an eerie familiarity that had drawn him to her.

Bakura felt like attacking one or both of them as she watched Ryou speak, hesitant and uncertain, and Serenity listen with both trust and confused disbelief. How the hell dare he wander off from where she had ordered he stay, just to talk to some girl? It wasn't even like Ryou to do such a thing. What _were_ they talking about, anyway? Whatever it was, they seemed to be wrapping it up, Serenity nodding her head several times. A look of gratitude overcame Ryou's features, and he shook her hand thankfully. Strangely painful anger welled up in Bakura's chest, and both of them turned in surprise at her low growl.

"Hello, you must be Bakura," Serenity greeted the ex-spirit politely, bowing her head and smiling. That name meant that Ryou had told the truth. The thief knew he could never have come up with a convincing explanation about a female stranger who bore the same name, but whom Ryou did not call by some title reserved for relatives. Serenity was familiar with the Millennium Items, after all, however ignorant she was. He had probably told her everything.

Bakura did not return the smile, staring at the other girl with an incredulous look, before glaring at Ryou with a fire in her eyes that told him he had five seconds to explain.

Ryou grimaced and walked over to Bakura, getting between her and Serenity. Before he had a chance to say a word, she started railing at him.

"You said you wouldn't tell anyone!" Bakura hissed, balling her fists, but for all her anger, she was unable to shake the sensation of betrayal. Ryou held up his hands, looking guilty and shaking his head.

"Listen, she promised she'd keep it to herself, she just offered to help us and it'll be easier if she knows the real situation –"

"Why the hell did I bother to trust you? You never obeyed me as a vessel, why would you start now?" Bakura raised her voice, and a few nearby customers cast an odd glance in her direction. Ryou looked cowed, waving for her to keep her voice down. Serenity stepped forward to help him, putting on her most cheerful airs.

"It's all right, Bakura, I'm not going to tell anyone. Big brother doesn't need to know. I'm sure it must be rough for you, but I can help at least in this little way –"

"I don't need your help, woman!" Bakura snarled at the girl, momentarily glad she was finally able to glare at someone without having to tilt her head upwards. "If you're anywhere as stupid as your brother—"

A slightly irritated look crossed Ryou's face, and he set his hands on Bakura's shoulders, leading her away from a confused and hurt Serenity. Bakura struggled as she was taken aside, quickly pulling her shoulders free and raising her lip. "Don't you dare start manhandling me," she warned dangerously, but he just shook his head.

"Listen, if you make her upset, she _will_ go to her brother. Then, everyone really will know, not to mention that we'll both have to answer to him. I don't want them to hurt you, and I don't feel like getting beaten up myself," he sighed, exasperated.

"I didn't want to be here in the first place," Bakura mumbled defensively, and Ryou's irritation seemed to sink into guilt again.

"I know, I'm sorry I dragged you here and told Serenity," he lowered his eyes, "But it's not her fault. She's just trying to help. Take it out on me, if you want, but please… don't talk to her like that."

"Why shouldn't I, just because you –" but Bakura paused, noticing a look of distant melancholy in Ryou's eyes. He only got that look if he was thinking about one of his dead or estranged relatives. She glanced back at Serenity, comparing her to one of the memories she acquired from Ryou, and snorted softly. Apparently, it wasn't attraction that led him to trust the brown-haired girl so easily.

"She's not your dead sister," Bakura said in a flat, indifferent tone, and Ryou flinched as though she'd hit him. The thief frowned slightly, but set her jaw. Good. They were even.

"Guys?" Serenity approached them uncertainly.

Bakura shifted uncomfortably in her sagging jeans, and relented. "Fine, lead the way." She folded her arms and leered when both Ryou and Serenity smiled at her.

The thief adamantly resisted all of Serenity's clothing recommendations, curling her lips in insulted disgust at anything she found too form-fitting or effeminate. She only listened when Serenity noted they seemed to be about the same size and build in most aspects, which made finding a fitting size easy. Bakura got only the bare essentials, still refusing to buy an entirely new wardrobe as though she were celebrating her new form. Ryou alternated between trying to make up for what he had done and staring at the floor in nervous, blushing embarrassment as Serenity detailed the ins and outs of women's undergarments. They soon made their purchases, and Ryou waved farewell to Serenity, thanking her again while Bakura ignored her.

"Now. Home," Bakura muttered and started walking.

Ryou carried the bag and followed her, frowning, "Are you sure? You haven't left the apartment in days. Don't you want to stretch your legs?"

Bakura narrowed her eyes and refused to dignify him with a response. Ryou's frown never left his face, and he paced beside her, searching his mind. What cheered her up? What were her hobbies? Did she even have any interests outside –

His eyes fell on a jewelry store, and he stopped in his tracks.

It was sleek and open, its glass counter out where any passing customers could catch glimpse of all the gold and jewels on display. There was a man by the counter, obviously awaiting service and absently talking on his cell phone.

And paying no attention to the golden necklace he had laid on the counter.

Ryou bit his lip. He knew it was wrong, but his desire to cheer her up was outweighing his morals at the moment. It wasn't like she hadn't done it before. She wouldn't get caught, and she might just feel a little better. He wouldn't really be doing anything besides pointing it out. Hesitantly, he nudged Bakura's shoulder. "Hey, look."

"What do you…" she started, before noticing what he was pointing at. Something sparked in her eyes, but it was faint.

"That… that has to be the easiest theft I've ever seen," he noted quietly, trying hard to keep his voice from trembling. Guilt and anxiety festered in the pit of his stomach, and he was quickly reconsidering the wisdom of his suggestion. The man could turn around at any moment, and if his suit and important stance were any indication, he would show no mercy to a couple of teenagers with far too much interest in his wares.

Bakura was silent and still for a moment, before she shook her head and shrugged. "It's not worth it," she mumbled disinterestedly and kept walking.

"Not worth it?" Ryou stumbled after her, hardly able to believe what he heard, "Weren't you the one who broke into tombs and stole mummies?"

She grunted despondently, and Ryou trotted after her. "I-is something wrong?

She growled and looked back at him, "Aren't _you_ the one who always chastises me for so much as shoplifting?"

Ryou stopped in his tracks. Bakura muttered under her breath and resumed walking while he remained behind, staring bewilderedly at her back. As far as he knew, stealing was her only passion, with the Millennium Items now collected. He sighed. With every word he said, he just dug himself in deeper. Maybe he should just let her lead the way home. He started in the direction of her retreating form, and made no attempt to catch up.

Ryou heard a ruckus up ahead and finally lifted his head from the ground. Bakura had stopped a ways ahead of him, and had her back up in a furious defensive pose. Several teenage boys were nearby, and they had obviously made some comment in passing that Bakura had heard and refused to tolerate. They seemed far more amused with the exchange than she was. He couldn't make out their exact comments, but their gestures and leering tones were enough to tell him what they were saying.

Suddenly, Ryou's perplexed sadness was gone, and in its place was the same thing that had led him to stand up to the Pharaoh himself. It surged for a moment, before his reasonable side noticed that Bakura looked like she was about to attack the nearest boy.

Smoldering his anger, Ryou ran up to Bakura and wrapped his arms around her shoulders to hold her back from lunging. She thrashed and swore, but he held on, wincing when he was elbowed in the side. The boys laughed.

"They're not worth it either. Please, you're right, let's just go home," Ryou pleaded the writhing, growling girl in his arms.

"Better listen to him, sweet cheeks," one of the taller boys leered down at them both, snickering, "Don't wanna get in any trouble, now, do ya?"

"I dunno, I think I'd like having her hit me," another slurred with a note of drunkenness, and they all howled with laughter and agreement.

"Goddammit, boy, let go!" Bakura's efforts to break free intensified, but he tightened his hold and looked down at her. Her wild bangs shadowed her eyes, and she was red in the face with rage.

"Please, just ignore them," he begged with his tone and eyes, and she tilted her head up to snarl at him. He didn't flinch.

"Aw, let her go, I'm sure she'd have much more _fun_ with us than a fag like you," one of the boys suggested eagerly, and the others nodded, sneering and jerking their hips to emphasize just what kind of fun they wanted to have. Ryou set his jaw and narrowed his eyes slightly, then glanced down at Bakura, who was shaking her head as she tried to get away from him. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw tears of frustration threatening at the corners of her eyes, and that was too much for him.

It wasn't in Ryou's nature to get mad easily. He had always put other people before himself, always convinced that they were more important. And because of that, when it came to defending _them_, something in him changed. He felt like he had a higher purpose. He felt like he had the _right_ to get angry, and from that he drew a wealth of strength and willpower he never would have had otherwise.

"_Leave her alone._"

The boys and the thief blinked at him in collective surprise. His tone had been uncharacteristically dangerous and low, very nearly the deadly tone Bakura forced his voice into when she had possessed him. Ryou considered this for a fleeting moment. If the spirit could puppeteer his body and stance into appearing far more imposing than it really was, why couldn't he? It wouldn't hurt to try…

The harassing teenagers briefly exchanged uncertain glances, caught off guard by the boy's sudden change in demeanor. Ryou did his best to glare and will them into silence through sheer presence alone, which was not an easy feat for someone as soft and shy as him. He kept his eyes trained on them as he dropped one of his arms from his hold on Bakura, allowing her to start walking away in a silent stupor. Ryou followed her, though his threatening gaze never left their targets until they were yards away. He was faintly aware of the jeers called to his back, but he failed to hear them, staring ahead.

He also didn't notice that he had kept one arm over his companion's shoulders, until she muttered and shook it off once they were outside the mall.


	10. Made of Steel

_I can be anything _

_That you want me to be_

_A punching bag, a piece of string_

_That reminds you not to think_

_Hold your head high_

_Don't look down_

_I'm by your side_

_Won't back down_

_You wanted a hero tonight_

_Well, I'm not made of steel_

_But your secret's safe with me..._

-Our Lady Peace, "Made of Steel"

"Police still have no explanation for the lack of witnesses at the kidnapping. A few say they recall a strange man in dark clothes, but after that, their memories are fuzzy. 'The people he took, it was like they were possessed or something,' one witness claims…"

Ryou and Bakura stared at the flickering television. "What's he doing?" Ryou wondered, shaking his head at the news, "It doesn't make any sense…"

"Of course it doesn't," Bakura mumbled, rubbing her forehead, "You'd have to be insane to understand."

"I thought he would have targeted Pharaoh and his friends first," Ryou frowned, sitting back against the couch.

"I think he's learned not to underestimate them. He's obviously trying to rebuild his army of mind slaves before he makes any major moves. He doesn't have the chaos of a city-wide tournament to hide behind this time, so he has to be more careful."

Bakura hoped her armchair villainy satisfied him. She didn't feel like talking. Her inner demons were distracting her.

_This wouldn't have happened if you had been able to do your job._

"Witnesses report the perpetrator wielding some sort of gold object…"

With only a growl for an explanation, Bakura pulled herself off the couch and strode back to her room. She heard a questioning noise from Ryou, but he was wise enough not to follow. Good. She didn't know what she would have said to him if he had.

How could she explain what was bothering her? It wasn't that she cared about the people Marik enslaved. Bakura didn't even care about whatever twisted plot he might have in mind for the Pharaoh. But the fact he was using the Rod to carry it out, the Rod he had _stolen_, the Rod she was suppose to protect…

Bakura pushed aside a glass door and stepped out into the cool night air. The balcony was small and the view was nothing special, but it seemed far away from the world. Her fingers reached out for the metal railing, grabbing it and channeling her frustration into her grasp.

_Tsk, you've been so busy worrying about the fact you now have tits that you failed to see how much you really screwed up._

The thief ground her teeth and glared at the lights of the city. Her knuckles were white. She cursed Marik. She cursed the Pharaoh, too. How could he insist on putting the Millennium Items out in public, where anyone with an ounce of interest could get to them?

_He obviously thought that you would be able to handle the job of protecting them. That's the only reason he let you keep the Ring, you know. What a fool he was._

Bakura hunched her shoulders and tried to ignore the thoughts. She concentrated on the cars passing on the street far below, narrowing her eyes at them.

_It was the only thing you had left to do. You couldn't do anything else, after all. You couldn't defeat the Pharaoh. You couldn't avenge your village. You couldn't even gather up all the Items, Pharaoh had to do that for you. _

She tightened her grip, the rusty metal digging into her palm painfully. Her bottled up rage and anger seemed to be gathering in her throat.

_All you had to do was watch over them. It was the only purpose you had left, and you __**failed**__. _

The word was a knife in her chest. It cut down the curtains of her anger, revealing a horrible pit of self-loathing. A muffled sound was wrenched from Bakura's chest before she could stop it. She fought to get her anger back, tried to will it forward past this terrible sense of uselessness, but she couldn't do that, either.

_Go on, cry like the blubbering woman you've become. You know it's true. Your old life is gone forever; you lost one too many times. Your recklessness has finally gotten you past the point of no return. _

Every muscle in Bakura's face was strained as she tried to retain her composure, but it was a losing battle.

_Stripped of your physique, stripped of your power, stripped of all your defenses and barriers and fronts and lies, the whole world can see you for what you really are now._

The tears came anyway, and she clutched her head, digging her nails into her scalp. _This isn't me!_ She tried to rebut the voice, but it just laughed.

_Oh, it is now. Do you really think you can fix this? You can't do anything against Marik. You sure as hell couldn't bully the Pharaoh into fixing things. You couldn't even stand up to those boys at the mall; maybe they were right. Maybe screwing __**is**__ all you're good for now._

As the words sunk in, her muscles slowly started to relax. A sense of utter defeat washed over her and made her head and shoulders slump. Bakura blinked though her tears, her eyes fixated on the street that was at least ten stories away.

_You can either wait until the Pharaoh seals you in the Shadow Realm for your transgressions, or until Marik comes to finish what he started. Or,_ it almost seemed to hiss in her ear,_ not give either of them the pleasure…_

She started to climb up on the railing, her motions automatic and thoughtless. In the wake of total defeat, there was a tiny spark of quiet determination, to finish things and die with what little dignity she had left.

As the wind toyed with her hair, she felt very nearly peaceful. Bakura wasted no time considering life and death. She knew this would be the end, and she had spent enough time contemplating such things in the Ring. The thief was sick of living with the shames of her past, her curses and burdens. She just wanted to get away. One last great escape for the King of Thieves…

She spread her arms, offering herself to the night, stomach leaping into her throat as she felt gravity tug her forward.

"Bakura!"

A pair of arms yanked her away from the void, out of the tendrils of gravity's hold. The movement brought her tumbling back onto the balcony floor, on top of the warm body that had pulled her back. Broken out of her trance, she tried to writhe away, but Ryou was holding her far more tightly than gravity had been. He clutched her as though she might blow away, and she stopped struggling, too exhausted to fight. Bakura stared up at the sky, listening to Ryou whimpering behind her head and trying to find the words to express himself.

"B-Bakura, w-what—"

"Quiet."

She closed her eyes, slowly relaxing. In her state of defeated, detached apathy, she could admit that his arms weren't the worst place in the world to be. His panicky voice would only distract her and re-ignite all her fear and hate. Ryou was silenced, but refused to let go.

Her mind was blissfully quieted along with him.

It was a long moment, but words eventually crept back into Bakura's consciousness and convinced her that she could not let it continue. She pulled away from him, standing quickly and moving back to the edge.

Ryou was on his feet in an instant, grasping her shoulders and took her back, keeping her away from the railing. Bakura turned her head sharply to glare at him.

"You will not stop me from escaping this," she hissed quietly. It was supposed to be an order, but Ryou just hugged her again, practically draping himself over her as though to keep her from leaping with his sheer bodily weight.

"Why?" he asked finally, in frightened, whispered tone that threatened to break into sobs. He sounded like a child being abandoned by his mother.

"You selfish prat, I've lost everything!" Bakura tried to growl, but her voice became strangled as the knot of bile rose in her throat again, jerking her shoulders. "I have nothing! Nothing! My strength, my power, my pride, my purpose…"

Ryou looked down at her pointedly, tilting his head. "I-I know you come from a time when women were looked down upon, but believe me, just because you have a female body doesn't mean—"

"Damn you_, it's not just that!"_ Bakura all but shrieked at the night sky, trying to lunge away from him, but he held her tight. She hung her head, shaking it. "I've failed… you understand? I have _always_ failed, and it's finally caught up with me. I spent so long trying to prove I could handle the task fate set upon me, but I failed then, and I've failed now…"

Her voice had grown quiet and degenerated into whispered rambling Ryou could barely understand. He wanted to help, but what could he say? He knew so little about her, and only had the faintest idea of her former life in Egypt.

He never knew why she hated the Pharaoh so much, but when she had possessed him in the past, he could sense the tightly-controlled rage that rose to the surface whenever she saw the King of Games.

It had not felt like simple greed for his crown or his title or even his Puzzle, or the sheer malicious envy other enemies had displayed in the past. There was some of that, of course, a good deal of it. But underneath it all, there was a truly righteous rage, a sincere belief that despite the airs of honor and loyalty and altruism he put on, the Pharaoh was the monster he accused the thief of being.

Ryou stared down at the tormented girl who had not long ago been a proud man. Or had she? Was all this mental anguish new, or something that had been festering for a thousand years? How much had really changed…?

Bakura's eyes were barely open. The edges were red and tender, and her eyebrows were wrenched downward in a look of insurmountable frustration. Her irises glinted crimson beneath the sheen of tears. They were a striking, inhuman color, but full of wholly human pain. The scar that she had once worn like a war trophy now seemed like vivid evidence of a life of pain and violence.

He had been quiet for too long. Ryou opened his mouth to speak, intending to say something deep, meaningful, insightful, something that would be so profound that she would immediately succumb and explain all her nightmares and fears and he'd finally be able to fix them –

"I really like your eyes."

They both blinked at that, and she twisted her head towards him to glower in disbelief. He glanced away sheepishly, warmth rising to his face. So much for being profound; he might as well go with it.

"I mean, I've never seen anyone else with eyes that color. They're… they're beautiful."

After a moment of stunned staring, she looked away, indignant and embarrassed, and raised her lip as though to accuse him of something, but he interrupted. "I'm not… Not just saying that because you're a girl now. I've always thought that about you. They look the same."

Bakura paused, a blank look coming over her face. She slowly turned her eyes back towards him, wordlessly demanding further explanation. Ryou bit his lip and looked for the right words.

"What I'm trying to say is… uh… I don't think everything's changed. I know you think it has. I know you think things have suddenly become a million times worse, but, h-have they, really?" He glanced down at her, waiting for a rebuke, but she still seemed to be waiting.

"You haven't lost everything. I mean, something kept you going for three thousand years, and I don't think it was anything physical _or_ metaphysical. I know this sounds cheesy and probably stupid, but I think it had to be some kind of inner strength, or determination, or a desire for something. And no matter what, you always have that…"

His words trailed off and hung in the cool night air.

"Not now," her hoarse voice finally whispered into the silence, "not anymore."

"Why not?" Ryou frowned at her expression of dead apathy. He focused on trying to help her, doing his best to ignore the warmth that seemed to rise throughout his chest and into his head at the fact he was holding her. It didn't care that she happened to have the mind of a once murderous male thief, or was not too long ago a spirit that tormented his waking and sleeping life. She was warm, and she was there, and when she shifted her weight so that she was leaning against him in the slightest way possible, it made him happier than he thought it should.

Ryou was relieved when she spoke again.

"It's a long story, boy," Bakura murmured, eyes cast downwards. She was fingering the Ring beneath her shirt.

"I've got all night," Ryou spoke with a gentle smile in his voice, and it was enough to make Bakura lift her eyes.

She stared at him for a long moment, while he waited expectantly.

_Wouldn't it be nice to have someone know, after all this time? _

Bakura scrutinized his face. His features were honest and childlike.

_Wouldn't it be nice to have someone on your side?_

She finally met his eyes. Their locked gaze made her quietly uncomfortable, but she kept on investigating, studying, making her final assessments of boy she'd known, she'd _been_, for years. She knew him, quite literally, inside and out. Even now that she was a separate entity she could just about hear his thoughts. Though he wasn't outwardly a very emotional person, his eyes were an open book, and right now she could read in them his anxious waiting, quiet hoping, deep concern and slight confusion.

It was in that moment she realized Ryou already was on her side.

_Then… wouldn't it be nice to truly trust someone, for once?_

On that, she had to concede. She looked away from him and into the city.

"Follow me."

xxxxxxxx

Bakura eyed the security guards at the museum. One was asleep on his feet, and the other was busy eating a greasy hamburger. She motioned to Ryou to follow her and stole across the lawn, leading him to a back entrance. Ryou had found a spare set of his father's keys at the apartment, and hesitated a moment before quietly unlocking the door.

In the dark, Bakura smirked. She never would've gotten him to go along with breaking and entering when she possessed him, but now he was a willing accomplice, after she had convinced him she had no interest in stealing anything.

They strode through the darkened halls of the museum, and Ryou grimaced at the ominous, looming chunks of stone walls and statues. Bakura was slightly edgy as well. She knew there would be additional security after the break in, and it wouldn't be wise to be seen. But she had broken into the palaces of god-kings before, and then, as a tall, bulky man. For the first time in days, she found herself almost grateful for a small, lithe form that blended into the shadows easily and was too light to make an audible footfall.

Ryou, on the other hand, had no such experience and she could practically hear his teeth chattering. He clung to the walls nervously, and followed her close enough to bump against her repeatedly, earning a glare and a hissing admonishment every time. The fact he was the son of the curator didn't seem to ease him in the slightest.

But after ducking past a few patrolling guards, they managed to reach the main exhibit, the case with the Millennium Items. It had been blocked off by police tape, and the glass that littered the floor was undisturbed, marked with numbered evidence cards.

Bakura stopped in her tracks as they approached the case. She couldn't help but go over the events that had transpired here not too long ago, cursing to herself, at herself, for everything she could've done differently to win.

"Bakura…?" Ryou whispered and came to a stop beside her, "What did you want to show me?"

"You wanted to know the reason, the thing that kept me fueled by hate for three millennia," She shook her head, motioning to the Items. "There it is."

Ryou looked at the slab of stone, with its three empty slots, then back at the thief. "You wanted the Items?"

His companion's deadly red eyes narrowed in the shadows of the museum. She started to snap at him for making assumptions, but cooled her temper and took a deep breath. "In a way, I suppose. Their power would help me achieve my goal, but mostly I wanted something else."

Ryou watched as she stepped forward, stepping on a piece of glass.

"I wanted the Pharaoh's blood… I wanted his blood and the blood of all his priests, all his soldiers and all his followers. I wanted to end the world just to get back at _him_," Her voice dipped into a dark, malicious tone she had not used in some while, a tone that made Ryou shiver with the memory of the voice that had haunted him.

"Revenge?" he asked quietly, "For what?"

In an instant, her crimson eyes turned on him and he stumbled in surprise. He got the message and made note not to interrupt her again, shrinking back. But she said nothing, turning back to the slab and reaching up to touch the cool stone through the hole in the glass case.

"A basic tenant of magic is that it often requires a sacrifice," she started, keeping her eyes on the dull gold of the Items, "The greater the sacrifice, the greater the power. Sacrificing a certain herb might get you a mild remedy spell. Offering a goat might bring the rains. Take a human life, and you've got a deadly weapon. Ninety-nine human lives… and you have the Millennium Items."

Bakura closed her eyes, resting hand against the nearest Item, the Scales. Under her breath, she growled, "My entire village."

Ryou's stunned silence hung heavily in the air, and she inhaled slowly, continuing. "I was seven, eight, I don't remember. But I watched the Pharaoh's soldiers set fire to my home, slaughter my parents, my siblings, everyone I had ever known, and melt their bones and blood down into the gold…" She opened her eyes to cast a glare at the metal she was fingering, "_This_ gold."

"That's…" Ryou mumbled, shaking his head, "T-that's horrible… How… the Pharaoh, I never would have thought he could…"

"It wasn't him, it was his father," Bakura sneered, "But it's all the same to me. These are far more than mere_ Items_ to me, landlord… These are…" Bakura cut herself off and clenched her fingers, "And _I_ am called the thief for wanting to collect them…" Her slim shoulders slumped.

"But I couldn't. That damn Pharaoh always had to be one step ahead, had to collect the Items himself, and had the audacity to call me evil," her lip curled in disgust, "I suppose a few thousand years in the Shadow Realm does tend to corrupt one's soul, but anything it did to me, it did to him too. Do you honestly think he was any kinder to Yugi than I was to you, in the beginning? Any kinder to mortals that crossed his path?"

Ryou stood helplessly as Bakura hung her head and shook with either grief or fury. He couldn't tell, and he didn't know how to answer, or even if she wanted him to.

"The only difference between him and I is that I was cursed to remember, forever. But the games ended. I only had one thing, one thing I had to do, guard them… Without that, I… well," Her voice weakened as her rage was smothered by a sadness that was visible in her very posture, "There's not much left, is there…? If Marik can destroy my last purpose in one duel, then I've failed long ago."

Seeing her head hang and her brilliant red eyes dull, Ryou was swept up with a rush of sympathy and set his hands on her shoulders.

"You haven't failed," He spoke up quietly, lowering his voice, "If you give up now and let him win, _then_ you'll be a failure. But you don't have to—"

"I've already lost against him!" She snapped at him and shrugged off his hands, turning on her heel to face him. "Don't you think if I could've done a damn thing against him, I would have? He took everything!"

"You're still alive," Ryou backed off, frowning.

Bakura snorted. "For all this, I'd rather not be. What do you suggest I do, eh? Go to the Pharaoh for help? He wouldn't help me if the fate of the world depended on it—"

"Maybe he wouldn't," Ryou's frown deepened into a hurt expression, and he stared at the floor, murmuring to himself. "but I would."

Bakura paused and eyed him suspiciously, muttering. "I can't imagine why."

Ryou stared past her, into the shadows that gathered in a distant corner. He sorted his thoughts and weighed his words, determined to make no more embarrassing verbal blunders.

"I tried," he started, not looking at her, "I tried to hate you, when you were in my head. But… maybe I'm just too soft, or naive, but after I got the Ring… I wasn't so lonely, anymore."

Bakura cocked one of her slim eyebrows, rolling her eyes.

"Only you, Ryou, would take solace in the company of a spirit bent on death and destruction." She intended it as an insult, but her old vessel had always had the irritating talent for finding the best in people, even when those people did nothing to deserve his forgiveness or sympathy. His utter lack of rage was such a sharp contrast to her own that she was sometimes downright puzzled by it, even as a spirit. If fate had distributed hatred and compassion between them equally, they might have been normal.

"Heh," Ryou smiled slightly, shoulders sinking. "Maybe. But… my mother and sister are gone. I can count the weeks my father has spent at home the last few years on one of my hands. I could barely make any friends, and those I did manage to get either ended up in your miniature collection or became dueling celebrities."

His dark brown eyes turned to her with an almost puppyish expression, "You were the only one that never left me. You'll probably make fun of me for it, but when you got your own body, I was… scared that you would leave me for good." Ryou rubbed his shoulder sheepishly, "I didn't like being possessed, no, and I didn't like the things you did. But… you were the only one that never went away.

"And sometimes, I could have sworn that I felt that same sense of loss from you… I thought I was just making things up, but now I understand. Even though I know my losses have been nothing compared to yours, I felt… I feel… like I can identify with you. Neither of us really have any family or friends, not the way Yugi does…" he said, and Bakura thought she heard the faintest note of bitterness in his voice.

"You've been there for me when I had no one else, nothing else going for me, in your own way… I just want to do the same for you," Ryou murmured at the floor, hands sliding into his pockets.

He silently awaited the rant that would surely follow, knowing full well he had bared his soul to someone all too willing to tear into it. But nothing came, and warily, he opened one eye to make sure that Bakura hadn't left in disgust.

She was still there, and for once, her angry glare was missing. In its place was a distant look of thought, tinged with sadness. "You are aware that I am the one who took some of those people from you, aren't you?" she asked a flat tone, without boasting or indignation.

"I don't know," Ryou's eyes wandered to the cord around Bakura's neck, "How much of it was you, and how much of it was the Ring…?"

"What do you mean?" she crinkled her forehead, unconsciously resting her hand on the pendant beneath her shirt, "I _was_ the Ring."

"I mean, if those Items were made in such an awful way," his gaze turned to the tablet, "are you sure they don't have some inherent evil? From what I've gathered, they all have manipulative or destructive abilities. They leave a dark mark on the lives of everyone who holds them. Happy as Yugi seems, even he might have been happier if Duel Monsters never became anything more than a game. I haven't seen him play it for the sake of fun and not some tournament in a long time."

Bakura considered. He did have a point. Together, the Items could open a gateway to the underworld – were they any less sinister on their own? Even the Pharaoh's Item could drive people mad, and the rest had powers that included prying into people's minds, spying on the future, controlling people, and judging their hearts to feed Ammut. Most of them had noble pretenses, but they were all weapons at their core.

"Maybe," Ryou spoke, wary and hopeful at the same time, "The Ring possessed you, too…?"

"Don't try and pardon my actions," Bakura warned, disturbed at the thought that she might not have been the power in control after all.

"Bakura, knowing what I know now… I can't help but forgive you," Ryou glanced to the side, "I know what it's like to have the life of someone you care about cut short, and to have that multiplied ninety-nine times… I can't say I wouldn't have done everything you did, either."

Bakura stared at him in disbelief. Her harmless vessel, who couldn't bring himself to swat flies, implying that he could have been driven to rob and torment and kill, just as she had been? The idea was ludicrous, but he was telling the truth. He didn't see his sister and mother killed before his eyes for the sake of some Pharaoh's greed, no. Instead, they'd been murdered in a car accident thanks to the carelessness of a drunken driver. At least, Bakura thought quietly, the death of her town had been purposeful, part of some twisted plan. The murder of Ryou's family had been an utterly pointless slaughter of innocents.

As she watched Ryou look away, Bakura came to understand something about him.

One of the minor reasons she loathed the Pharaoh was because she could not stand the trusting, idiot cheeriness of his host, Yugi. For a long time, she had thought him and Ryou to be far too much alike, and disliked them equally. But as far as she could tell, Yugi was that way because fate had been extraordinarily kind to him. He had been granted with the _good_ spirit, and he still had family, with friends all around him. Whenever he lost someone, or when anything bad happened, it was magically fixed, and everything and everyone was okay in the end. He always drew whatever card he needed, and luck and destiny always smiled on him and ensured his victory.

Ryou had not been so fortunate. He lacked the natural charisma that Yugi had; though he was externally happy, most of the time, his past tragedies had darkened his aura and turned people away from him. She could tell that he was not as pure as he hoped by the simple fact that all the ghouls, fiends and vicious traps she had ever played while in his body were not her own cards, but his. Where Yugi's deck was filled with cute creatures and noble knights and magicians, Ryou's had ghosts and graveyards and nightmares.

And he had lost people. Really lost them; they were not simply trapped in the Shadow Realm, put in a coma, or rendered soulless thanks to some madman. They were gone for good, and no amount of hope or magic or card-playing could ever bring them back. For every door fate opened for Yugi, it slammed one in Ryou's face.

He was not friendly, kind, or empathic because he was naive and sheltered. He was all that in the face of everything he had experienced, things that gave him every right to be cynical and vindictive and bitter. Yugi was good by nature and circumstance. Ryou was good by _choice_.

It was not a choice she had ever been able to make, or even, up to this point, aware that people could make. She had always thought that to have evil befall you was to become evil as well, and those who were not evil were simply fortunate fools like Yugi. But Ryou had obviously defied this law, something that required a strength she could not, up until that point, imagine him having.

"Idiots," she muttered, "They're idiots, all of them…"

"Huh?" Ryou looked up, surprised by the break in the quiet.

"The Pharaoh, his cheerleaders. If they could stop congratulating themselves on their friendship and goodness for even a moment, they would be able to see that you're the real thing."

Ryou blinked, obviously puzzled by what sounded suspiciously like a cryptic compliment. "What do you mean?"

"Stupid boy!" she snapped, flustered and tense, "You're like an angel."

Ryou went so utterly quiet and still that she was certain that he had stopped breathing. The blush that spread over his cheeks practically cast a glow in the darkness.

Bakura bit her tongue for letting that slip, furrowing her brow deeply. She hadn't planned on saying that, but all her usual barbs and lies and excuses failed her now. She was stuck with it.

"I thought," she finally freed her tongue, "I thought you were weak. Foolish. And I'm still not certain that you aren't the latter, but you have been able to endure. You fought me off, and laid your life down for people who you had just met. I've put you through more than you even know, but you turn around and do… this," she motioned impatiently, unable to put words to the kindness he'd shown to her recently, "in my hour of weakness, when I am a perfect target. I've no doubt that if the Pharaoh did to Yugi a fraction of what I've done to you, the boy would be a useless, broken shell."

Bakura thought she saw the shadows on Ryou's face become the shape of a shy, if not uncertain smile, and she almost stopped. This was a dangerous path. There was a strange fear in her chest, but not for her physical form, or even the fear of failure. It was the apprehension of delving into the unknown; in this case, showing something other than hatred towards another person. It was harder than she let on, since it unsettled her deeply to even begin to pull down even a few of her walls. She stood there in silence, feeling strangely cold.

"I think we're more like them than you want to admit," Ryou whispered gently. "Maybe we're not heroes like they are, but we're still… two halves of the same thing. Host and spirit, light and dark, yin and yang and all that. I think… we need each other, or at least…" he trailed off, smile disappearing as seriousness overtook his features. His voice became barely audible as he cautiously admitted, "…I need you."

He couldn't look at her after that. He became more uneasy as the silence stretched, afraid he'd overstepped some forbidden boundary by saying those words. Ryou opened his mouth to try and mend whatever damage he had done, when she interrupted.

"I'm not going anywhere."

It wasn't exactly reciprocal, but it wasn't rejection either. And after what had happened earlier that night, it was the most comforting thing she could have said to him. He lifted his head, hope brimming his eyes. Ryou took a step towards her, but he wasn't as fast as she was.

It took them both a moment to realize what happened. Bakura had reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, gripping the folds and digging her nails in. It was a gesture more possessive than affectionate, and she had set her face into a stoic expression as if trying to be completely professional and dignified about what she was doing. She stood only an inch away from him, staring intently at the collar of his shirt, not able to will herself any closer.

Ryou was frozen for a moment, hesitating for a split second in case this was a prelude to some kind of attack, but he soon relaxed and smiled. Steeling himself with a big breath, he lifted his arms, setting them around her upper back in warm, real hug. The inch of distance between them closed. She didn't tense or writhe or growl in protest this time, accepting the contact and leaning into his shirt.

Neither former spirit nor boy could say what exactly they were doing, or what was going on. It was just what felt right in a way neither of them was familiar with.

"You're still an idiot," she muttered into the fabric, though her voice was devoid of malice, "A pathetic, lonely idiot."

"I guess so," he conceded, and for once didn't sound struck or wounded. "But I'm your idiot, right?"

There was a muffled chuckle, and Bakura felt herself smiling despite her best efforts.

"Damn right."

For the first time that night, the malicious, mocking voice of her former self went silent.


	11. Mrs Self Destruct

_I am the voice inside your head_

_I am the hate you try to hide_

_I am the lie that you believe_

_I am the truth from which you run_

_I am the end of all your dreams_

_And I control you_

_Mrs. Self Destruct…_

~ Candymachine88 covering Nine inch Nails, 'Mr. Self Destruct'

Ryou stared at the glaring red shapes displayed on his alarm clock. His eyes were too blurred by sleep to discern the numbers. Once they came into focus, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he had read correctly.

Four AM. A quick glance out the window confirmed the time. It was still dark, and the city was eerily quiet.

For once, it hadn't been a nightmare that awoke him, or his roommate arriving home late at night. Ryou wasn't sure what had done it this time, but he was gripped with a sense of restlessness. He sat up, pushing some of his tousled hair out of his face.

It took him several minutes to discover that he was hugging his pillow with his other arm, and had brought it up against his chest. He looked down at it in half-aware puzzlement, before quickly pushing it back on the bed where it belonged, embarrassment rushing into his face. It got worse when he remembered the previous night.

They had gone home from the museum in a silence that was both awkward and peaceful. It was late enough that, when they got home, they made an unspoken agreement to go to sleep. Ryou had finally broken the silence by wishing Bakura a good night, and she had only twitched her lip in response, unusually despondent. He had noticed, and lifted his hand to reach out for her, but she saw it and came to life, quickly disappearing into her room before he could touch her.

Ryou sighed at the bangs that had fallen back into his face. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Wasn't he the same person that cringed when someone so much as greeted him in the halls at school? He was supposed to be reserved and shy, to the point where some people thought he was cold. Why was he suddenly trying to hug people and touch their shoulders?

_Not people,_ he reminded himself, scrunching his shoulders. _Just Bakura._

He sincerely hoped it was not because of her new gender. Ryou felt bad enough admitting that her new form, the one that caused her so much grief, was rather stunning. For a moment, he felt no better than the boys at the mall, or even Marik, but then… he remembered that he had found Bakura to be a fairly handsome male, too. But back then, the thief had had such a serpentine air about him, with a vicious tongue and unbridled arrogance that even Ryou was repelled most of the time.

Never mind that Ryou may have been somewhat hesitant to admit that he might have been gay, or bisexual, or something else. It was something that confused him even as he approached eighteen, since his life had been so interrupted by the tragic, the mystical and the occult that mundane teenage dilemmas, such as figuring out his sexuality, had taken a far back seat to simple survival.

He didn't even know why he was thinking about it _now_. Bakura was male, no matter what she looked like, and everything would be back to normal soon enough.

Guilt overtook embarrassment. Bakura was in misery, and he felt like the scum of the earth for briefly, fleetingly wishing that things might _not_ go back to normal. He knew that version of Bakura would never let him hug her, or look at him with anything but scorn. The male thief didn't need him, didn't want him, and didn't even like him. When she was a man again, Bakura could easily forget everything that happened in the past few days, and go back to being hateful and proud. And by now, she had been living on her own enough to no longer depend on her former vessel for much of anything. She… He would probably leave.

But the thief wouldn't be in such pain then, and to Ryou, that took precedence over any of his childish -- or adolescent -- desires for friendship or affection. He glanced over at the pillow, and paused for a moment, feeling foolish, before he gave in and gathered it back up in his arms.

At least he'd have the memories.

xxxxxxxx

Ryou was shaken out of his dozing by a muffled, agonized sound from the direction of Bakura's bedroom. He sat up again, dropping the pillow immediately this time. Uncertain that the sound had been real, he listened carefully to see if it would repeat. It did.

He quickly slid out of his bed and made his way across the hallway in the darkness. His hand was already turning the handle when he remembered to knock tentatively, warning her of his entrance. Unable to wait for a response, he opened the door completely and turned on the light.

Bakura was curled into a tight ball on the bed. She had angrily kicked off the covers and displaced the bedspread and pillows, and was clutching her head, tufts of wild silver hair arching up between each white-knuckled finger. She opened one eye to look at him as soon as he entered, indicating that she was awake. Judging from the dark bags under her eyes, she had been for most of the night.

"What's wrong?" Ryou wondered with considerably worry in his voice, and he nearly tripped over a pillow as he made his way towards her.

She half croaked and half snarled something unintelligible before grimacing and burrowing her face in the mattress. In a rush of concern and sympathy, he abandoned his survival instincts and sat close beside her on the bed, tilting her upwards before she suffocated herself.

Ryou set his hand on her temple, fingers sinking into her hair as he examined the area. Barely aware of his actions, his hand ran over the area and sifted through her surprisingly soft hair, searching for bumps or other damage. "Did you hit it?"

Bakura tensed when he touched her, staring at the wall directly in her line of vision, obviously caught off guard. Ryou stopped his hand, nearly horrified to realize where it was, but she actually started to relax underneath it. Closing her eyes, she muttered, "Headache."

"Oh." Ryou breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't remove his hand. A headache wasn't as bad as an injury, but still a cause for concern. Bakura was so resistant to pain that Ryou sometimes wondered if she _liked_ it, so she had to be in the grip of an epic migraine to be in this much discomfort.

"I know it hurts," he spoke in his softest tone, well aware of the pains associated with headaches, "I used to get these all the time."

"Of course you did, you had _me_ in your head," she rasped, screwing her eyes further shut. He was relieved to hear her sound only annoyed. It meant she was relatively well.

He made a quiet humming sound in affirmation, focused on watching her face. Ryou could feel her facial muscles slowly lose some of their tension beneath his palm, and her fingers released the death-grip they had on her head. Bakura's hands fell to the side, and her crimson eyes opened a fraction of an inch, watching him. Ryou accidentally caught her gaze, and was surprised to see a distinct lack of anger within them. They were unreadable.

"What did you do?" she finally asked, eyebrows furrowing in genuine curiosity.

"Mh?" He blinked, brought out of his momentary trance, and quickly looked away from her eyes.

"It's gone," she muttered, confused.

"The headache? It must've just run its course," he replied, staring at the floor.

"Then you can stop, now," he heard her murmur.

"Stop what?" Ryou looked back shyly, certain he was blushing, but trying his best to hide it.

"Pawing my head." Her voice was creaky, and she contradicted herself by tilting her forehead against his hand. It was then he realized that he hadn't just been resting his hand in her hair, but massaging her temple with his thumb.

Yes, he was definitely blushing.

He sputtered an apology and started to remove his hand, but slim fingers suddenly shot up and grabbed his wrist, digging sharp nails into his skin. His hand froze, captured, and he looked down at her with a lost expression.

"Just don't move," she growled under her breath. Bakura's eyes had closed again, and her mouth was set in a stern frown even as she pressed her head against his palm, "I don't want it to come back."

"I-I could go get some, um, some medicine from the pharmacy," Ryou offered shakily, glad she couldn't see how red his face was. She only growled again, louder, like a dog with a bone that it was unwilling to relinquish. Her lips even pulled back to reveal her unusually pointy canines.

Ryou shrank back from her slightly, staring at her teeth warily. But then, unbidden, his eyes wandered down from her fangs to her lips… lips that Marik's penalty game had made especially lush and full, set against her dark skin. He let out a muffled squeak and jerked his gaze back to the floor. Afraid that wouldn't be enough, he forced his eyes closed so they wouldn't notice anything _else_.

When he felt Bakura's hand drop from his wrist, he dared a quick glance back at her. She looked more peaceful now, and the snarl had disappeared. Her head felt heavy and warm on his hand, and that warmth seemed to spread to his face and crept into his chest, lifting his heart. It reminded him of the hug they had shared at the museum, and he felt himself smiling. If she intended to fall asleep on his hand, he was dangerously tempted to lie down and curl up with her…

Then he remembered that it was Monday, and he had to go to school shortly. He didn't dread school as much as some students, but right now that fact seemed unusually disappointing. Embarrassed, he shook himself out of it.

"I have to go to school," he whispered reluctantly, and that elicited an irritated grumble from the thief. She opened her eyes, glaring at him for foiling her plans once again.

"But, um, I could still swing by the pharmacy real quick to get you some painkillers. They'll be better than my hand, I promise," he smiled nervously.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're going right now?"

Ryou nodded, "I'll probably already be late…"

"Tch." She muttered and finally pulled her head away, rolling away from it with a disgruntled look on her face. "Don't bother. I'll be _fine._"

Ryou didn't notice it, though, since he had turned away so she couldn't see his own disappointed expression. He retrieved his hand, rubbing the nail marks on his wrist. It seemed awfully cold now.

"Well, I'll get you something on the way back, just in case," he stood up and looked back down at her, but she rolled over again to turn her back to him. He frowned, the warmth in his chest replaced with a strange sense of rejection.

"If… if it comes back, well, sometimes taking a hot bath helped me. The bathroom's the most insulated room in the apartment. It'll keep out all the noises."

"I'm perfectly aware of that," she snapped, still not dignifying him with a look, "I was with you the entire time, if you recall."

Ryou grimaced at the thought, then sighed and rubbed his head. At least he was used to her behaving like this. She had always hated not getting her way, even when she was a spirit.

But for once, he would've really liked to have gone along with whatever she had in mind…

Humiliated by that stray thought, Ryou quickly excused himself to get ready for school.

xxxxxxxx

Bakura had managed to fall asleep, even without the presence of Ryou's hand and its bizarre healing touch. Her sleep was blissfully free of both headaches and nightmares, so she slept well into the day, making up for her sleepless night. Hunger eventually forced her awake, though, and she muttered to herself as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. The thief sat up and idly scratched an itch on her chest, but stopped when she realized just what she was scratching.

She glared down at her breasts. _I'll never get used to these damn things,_ she grumbled mentally, before angrily reminding herself that she wouldn't have to, that they were completely temporary. Still, Bakura was half tempted to dig out that torturous-looking contraption that Serenity had made her buy, if it would restrain her new features better than the bandages had.

She smirked slightly at the memory. Wretched as that day had been at the time, she had to admit it was amusing to see Ryou rendered so pitifully awkward by being surrounded by aisles of women's undergarments.

Those memories lead to a more recent one. The early morning scene replayed in her head, and Bakura's smirk sunk into an angry frown. She must have been delirious with pain and lack of sleep to try and claim his hand like that. But then, his hand had, somehow, chased away the equally strange headache that had struck her in the middle of the night. Bakura could vaguely recall getting similar headaches when she had been a man in Egypt, but she had been incorporeal for so long that she had completely forgotten the wretched pain.

For a moment, she really wished she was a spirit in Ryou's head again. It had been easier then, since she could ignore useless mortal afflictions like pain and hunger. That, and she could make his hand do whatever she wanted most of the time…

Bakura growled at the thought and pushed herself out of bed. She had no interest in remembering that particular incident, and she swore that she would kill Ryou if he even attempted something like that again. Or hit him. Or yell. At the very least, she would glare at him as he'd never been glared at before.

She stepped out of her room and walked bare-foot to the kitchen. The quiet emptiness of the apartment was unnerving, but she ignored it. The apartment – hell, the whole world – seemed far bigger than it used to be. She wouldn't have minded Ryou's presence. But not, Bakura angrily told herself, because of anything to do with his hand or anything else. She just would've much rather had some of his cooking than the prepackaged snacks that she had to resort to eating when he was gone.

Right now, she would've given almost anything for a large steak, cooked rare and dripping with juice, but the only meat in Ryou's refrigerator was cold and sliced. Hardly adequate, but better than granola bars. The deli meat was still a poor substitute for a real meal, and she chewed it distastefully as she curled up on the couch.

The apartment wasn't just empty, it was _boring_. If Ryou was around, she might have been able to talk him into a game of Duel Monsters. She would've even been willing to dig out the old Monster World board game, though that game understandably unsettled Ryou. Probably because of that one tower, with blood stains on it that had resisted all attempts at washing…

She snorted and waved the thought away. Besides, that game was meant for more players, though thinking about it, she couldn't see why it would be impossible to have one Game Master and one player. She wondered if he'd let her be the Game Master again, but she would've been happy to be a player, too. As she stretched out on the couch, she snickered to herself. He'd have to make one of those miniatures for her. Somehow, she didn't think he'd mind much.

Then again, maybe he would. She recalled a time when she lurked in the recess of his mind, before she had started getting aggressive with her possessions. He used to love making miniatures and creating small buildings and props for Monster World, but since she had started taking him over and trapping the souls of his friends, he had stopped doing it. After the game with Yugi and his friends, he'd never played again or touched his sculpting tools. The smirk fell from her face. Maybe she could get him interested again…

_How sweet._

Bakura groaned and set her hand on her forehead. The onset of her inner demons usually foretold the start of a headache. They'd torn into her last night for letting Ryou hug her… no, for _initiating_ it.

_Such a shame he had to go to school, isn't it? I'm sure you would've loved to have him in your bed again._

She stood up, already feeling the pressure in her skull. Ryou's suggestion was the only idea she had, so she headed to the bathroom and glared at herself in the broken mirror.

_I'm afraid he's not here to chase away the pain this time. It's just you and me, thief..._

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Bakura could have sworn she saw something flash in one of the shards on the mirror, but she dismissed it with an angry sound. Hesitating a moment, she pulled off her sweater. The Ring jangled as it was revealed, and felt even colder against her bare flesh once it was exposed.

Steeling herself, she glanced at her reflection. It was somewhat shattered, but the mirror was whole enough to give her a pretty good look at her new body. The Ring hung much lower on her chest, nearly to her stomach. She decided to keep it on. It gave her something else to look at besides those… _things_.

Her slept-in pants and underwear were next, and she was glad the mirror was too high up to show her any changes below her waist. Bakura headed to the tub and, bringing up one of Ryou's memories, turned on the hot water and switched the water to the faucet from the shower-head. She made a point to look at the water and not her naked self as the tub filled.

_Oh, no need to be so modest. Marik has excellent taste. If you bothered to look at yourself, you'd see how __**ravishing**__he made you._

She shut her eyes tightly and sank into the water. "Be quiet," she grumbled at the air, lowering herself until she was in up to her neck, long hair drifting in the water around her. Her shorter body allowed her to stretch out in the tub with only minimal scrunching.

Bakura glanced down at her Ring, and gripped it below the water. If she had been able to, she would've summoned a monster to stand guard for her. She felt strangely vulnerable at the moment, and didn't know why. She usually didn't mind solitude, but the small apartment no longer seemed quite as safe as it had before. Bakura looked at the door, making sure it was closed and locked. Muttering, she lifted her hand out of the water and set it against her head, in a feeble attempt to ward off the strengthening headache.

She blinked when she realized she had set her hand in the same place Ryou's had been, unconsciously trying to recreate his touch.

With a strangled sound, she dropped her hand and leaned her head against the back of the tub. She scowled deeply, distracting herself by focusing her anger towards him. Where had he gotten the nerve to do that, anyway? Just touching her head like it was no big deal, stroking her hair and kneading her scalp -- she should've smacked him.

_Perhaps,_ that damn voice snickered, _because it wasn't a big deal. After all, he couldn't know how much you __**liked**__ it… _

Her face felt warm. Frustrated, she tightened her grip and glared at the faucet venomously. It was this stupid body, it had to be.

_Hah. You know that's a lie. You were attracted to him even when you were a male. Need I remind you of some of the dreams you had? Ones that prompted you to steal yourself a new set of sheets the next day? Good thing you don't have to worry about that embarrassing little problem anymore, eh?_

"Silence!" she repeated her order, louder, curling up against the back of the tub.

_The only difference between then and now – besides the obvious – is that you've let some of your walls come down between you and him. It wasn't just the Pharaoh's penalty game, or even Marik's. Learning some humility has changed you, little thief. It must be hard to realize you're no longer immortal, but a vulnerable, frail thing that has to rely on some soft-hearted teenage boy to feed her, clothe her, and __**protect**__ her…_

The headache worsened, like a stake being driven into her brain. Bakura's face wrenched in pain, and she gripped her head. "I don't need anyone to... gh…" Sharp, stabbing bolts of pain shot through her skull and interrupted her.

_You're certainly not the spirit you used to be. Or even the man you used to be, for that matter. Why not start over entirely? New life, new body… new __**emotions**__… _

The hissing emphasis rang in her ears, and each word added to the pain in her head, like hot pins being shoved into an open wound. She strained, grasping for an argument, but the ache in the front of her skull was too much.

_Stupid, stupid thief. You can lie to anyone…_

The voice seemed to revel in her pain. It was the same one that had tried to goad her into killing herself, the same one that had tormented her that morning she woke up with Ryou, the same one that had mocked her when Marik fell upon her like a hungry wolf…

"…_but yourself_."

Bakura's blood froze. For a moment, she was so startled that she even forgot the pain. The voice had sounded entirely too real that time.

Unable to breathe, she slowly lifted her head towards the source of the voice.

She met a pair of dead, blank eyes, so similar to Marik's that she almost screamed. But this time, they were red.

A spirit version of her former self sat on the edge of the tub, arms folded, wicked, exaggerated grin curled across his face.

No – not quite her old self. His eyes were blank, but dancing with sadistic glee, drinking in the fear that must have been on her face. The lower face of his face was bony, nearly skeletal, and his sneer was nothing but a row of massive interlocking fangs. His proportions weren't _right_, too tall and thin and long to be human, and his features distorted and pointed. His fingers ended in knife-like claws, and a long, familiar scar went over one of his eyes. Even the ethereal version of the Ring he wore around his neck seemed far more wicked, the circular part no longer smooth, but a series of bent, sharp curves, with gleaming hooks hung where the pendulums should have been. The eye engraved in the now inverted pyramid center no longer stared, but glared hatefully.

"Who are you?" She finally found her voice, and did her best to sound intimidating. Had the pain gotten so bad that she started hallucinating?

"_Haven't you figured it out yet, tomb-robber? Your little vessel was right,_" The spirit leered, tilting its head to one side. His monstrous grin grew wider. "_I'm the spirit of the Ring._"

"What?" Bakura snarled, but cowered back slightly in the tub. "I was the--"

"_Yes, __**was**_," he snickered in a raspy, darker imitation of her voice. "_But without your powers, you're just another pitiful mortal with a Millennium Item you can't handle, just like that boy._"

"You cannot exist," Bakura's mind raced for an explanation. This made no sense. She had been the spirit, and she left the Ring. There hadn't been anyone or anything else in there with her…

"_I suppose I shouldn't, but I rather like being contrary_," he giggled in a mad tone, before setting his claw-like hands against the side of the tub and looming over her, only a few feet away. "_I think I should be hurt that you don't recognize me._"

"Jog my memory," she seethed, narrowing her eyes. She mustered all her strength to be angry at this thing instead of afraid, but he – it – reminded her too much of Marik.

"_Hmm, hmm, hmm…I'm that nasty little piece of your mind that the Pharaoh took away in his penalty game…_" He lifted a hand, as if making a point, "_Remember now, don't you? I'm the piece of you that was born the day your village was killed, the piece that grew with every sin you committed, the piece that came to invade every aspect of your mind over the ages in the Shadow Realm._"

Bakura tried to sink further beneath the water, but it seemed impossible to escape the spirit's twisted grin. She was cornered again…

"_Didn't really think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?_" He reached out for her, claws threatening to tear her face off, until they suddenly changed direction and smoothed back her hair. It was a sick parody of how Ryou had touched her, and left her cold enough to start shaking.

"_My pretty, pretty, vessel," _he purred,_ "I can't help but tease you. You're so beautiful when you cry..."_

This had to be another nightmare. It was too ironic to be real.

"_Even the Pharaoh couldn't defeat me completely, and you? You're just a thief. That's all you ever were.__** I**__ was the murderer._" The spirit's disgustingly gentle touch suddenly turned vicious, ghostly hand somehow grasping a lock of her hair and yanking her forward. "_When I was part of you, you could control me. And when you had power over the Ring, I could do nothing._"

The spirit's surreal face was only inches from her own. He had her pinned with his corpse-like eyes.

"_But you've lost that power, and now, the Ring can control __**you.**_"

Bakura choked in pain and surprise. The points of the real Ring, the one laying against her chest, suddenly drove themselves under her first few layers of skin. Blood floated into the water.

"_So, __**landlord**__, where shall I begin?_"

His distorted laughter echoed off the walls of the bathroom.


	12. She's Lost Control

_Confusion in her eyes that says it all  
She's lost control  
And she gave away the secrets of her past and said  
I've lost control again  
And of a voice that told her when and where to act, she said  
I've lost control again_

And she turned to me and took me by the hand and said  
I've lost control again  
And walked upon the edge of no escape and laughed  
I've lost control  
She's lost control again…

~ Joy Division, "She's Lost Control"_  
_

"Bakura?"

Ryou's voice was distant, overwhelmed by the sick laughter, but it was enough to distract the malevolent force hovering over her.

The spirit's cackling ceased, and he sharply turned his head towards the source of the sound. With his gaze broken, Bakura was able to move again.

Without a second thought, she grabbed the Ring. In one swift motion, she yanked out the pendulums buried in her skin. More blood seeped into the bath water.

The spirit turned back to her, snarling and ready to attack, but she was faster. Bakura flung the Ring across the room. It clattered to the floor, and the spirit vanished.

She watched it, wide and wild eyed, making absolutely sure it stayed down. Panting, she finally let out the breath she'd been holding, and she curled up against the side of the tub. She felt herself shaking slightly. Darkness crept into her vision.

There were much, much bigger things to worry about than her new gender.

xxxxxxxx

"Are you alright in there?"

Ryou's worry-laden voice roused her out of her unconscious state. Bakura blinked, lifting her head. She was still in the bath, and the water had grown tepid. She tried to answer, but the only thing that came from her tired throat was a groaning sound of affirmation.

"You've been in there at least an hour since I got home," Ryou noted anxiously. He was just outside the bathroom door.

"Ugh… I'm fine," Bakura finally croaked, digging her fingernails into her forehead. She sounded far more shaken than she would've liked. "Go away."

There was a heavy sigh. "All right," he murmured, sounding entirely unconvinced. She waited until she heard him give up and return to his room before moving.

At first, she had hoped the encounter had been a nightmare, but she could feel the wounds on her chest every time she inhaled. Her shoulders sagged.

It wasn't enough to have the Pharaoh after her. It wasn't enough that a mad Egyptian had stolen the Rod and threatened her existence. No, she had to have this, too.

Bakura drained the tub and wrapped herself in a towel, muttering bitterly. Wispy threads of blood curled into the drain with the water. Her wound still bled a little bit, coagulation impeded by the warm water. She felt a little lightheaded. Fighting off a shudder, she retreated into her room, leaving the Ring in the bathroom.

It was a futile measure, she knew. If the Ring wanted her, it would find its way back to her neck, just as it had always returned to Ryou. Try as she might, she could find nothing in her accumulated occult knowledge that contradicted anything the spirit had said. She was just a mortal, now, and there was no reason she couldn't be as possessed or controlled as easily as any other human. She should've realized as much, judging from how easily the Rod had taken her over, but she never thought for a moment that the Ring would turn against her. It left her with a strange sense of betrayal.

More than that, the thing that lived in it now was far worse than her. Corrupt as she might have been, she still had goals, schemes, and patience. Without her plans to reign in and focus her darkest side, it was a mad, unrestrained force not unlike Marik's split personality. It didn't even seem to care for the physical state of its new host, judging from how it had tried to coax her into jumping off the ledge, and had made no move to help her with Marik. It just wanted to see her in agony…

The thief felt something cool run down her chest. Thin rivulets of blood were trickling down her skin from the wounds. Any coagulation that had set in had been disturbed by her motion and the tight hug of the towel.

A strange combination of anxiety and guilt churned in her stomach. The karmic irony weighed heavily on her. She knew all too well the thing her hate had borne, and just what it was capable of. Every day she spent as a mortal, it would get more and more daring, until it was able to possess her completely. When it did, she somehow doubted it would start with relatively petty crimes like binding souls to dolls.

But unlike Ryou, she had no circle of friends to help fight off the malicious spirit. However distant they were, they had at least made it more difficult for Bakura to possess him freely. It was a basic tenant of predation. Prey that was alone and injured was far easier to take than prey surrounded by its fellows. The same was true for isolated and depressed minds, with no other minds around to engage them. All she had was…

Ryou.

She lifted her head, looking in the direction of his room. He had been able to fight her.

Maybe he could fight this spirit, too.

xxxxxxxx

Ryou could barely concentrate on his homework. He was far too concerned about Bakura to have any interest in the taxonomy of lower invertebrates.

He'd been worried about her all day, and as a result, hadn't absorbed a word of his teacher's lecture. Things hadn't gotten any better when he came home to find her locked in the bathroom, disturbingly silent. His morbid paranoia had given him visions of him finding her a bath of bloody water, her wrists slashed.

When she finally responded to his knocks and calls, he was considerably relieved. She must have just gotten to so comfortable that she had fallen asleep in the tub. He sincerely hoped that was the case, at least. Frustrated, he pushed his biology textbook aside. Anxiety was making him nauseous. Ryou stepped out of his room to see if she was still in the bathroom.

The room was dark and the door was opened. A quick peek in her bedroom revealed that it was also empty. Curious, he headed into the living room.

Sure enough, she was on the couch, curled up in some of the new clothing he'd bought for her, hair still wet. Ryou smiled widely, grateful to be able to dismiss all his previous fear.

His feeling of relief was somewhat marred when he noticed the look of utter exhaustion on her face. Frowning, he quietly moved over to her and sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"How are you feeling?" Ryou asked in an almost motherly tone. Bakura opened her eyes slightly, looking over at him with emotions that were once again unreadable.

"Mh." What little he could detect in her face and voice seemed to be mostly depression, with only a little bit of resentment. Whatever was wrong with her was robbing her of all her usual fire and energy.

"The medicine I got is the same brand I always used, only thing that worked. Want me to get you some?"

"I don't have a headache," she muttered under her breath, looking back at her knees. "Not yet, anyway."

Ryou sat across from her, biting his lip slightly. He wanted to do _something_ for her. Part of him wanted to make up for having to leave her that morning, but mostly, he just wanted to see her smile. He wasn't sure she ever had before, at least in genuine happiness.

A low growl suddenly came from Bakura, but for once, it wasn't from her throat. She shifted and glared down at her stomach for giving itself away.

Ryou grinned faintly. "Why don't I call that downtown steak house and order some take-out? I don't think either of us have eaten much today."

Bakura looked up at his offer, interest replacing the look of defeat in her eyes. Ryou allowed himself a broader smile. Misery might be able to take away her love of thievery for a time, but he doubted any force on Earth or beyond would be capable of diminishing Bakura's appetite for red meat.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Ryou stepped into the kitchen to dig out the store's menu. He had taken to ordering out more frequently, on days when he lacked either the energy to cook or the energy to deal with Bakura flinging his cooking around. He ordered quickly, keeping his eyes on the ex-spirit. She was looking over her shoulder at him, probably prepared to protest if he didn't order her steak rare.

Ryou set the phone back on the hook and went back over to the couch, this time, sitting on the unoccupied end. "You'll feel better with a real meal in you," he assured. He probably would, too, for that matter.

He glanced at the television, wondering if he should turn it on, when he almost jumped out of his seat. There was suddenly a warm weight against his side.

"B--"

"Don't even start," she ordered bitterly, even as she set her face against his shirt. She was drawn up into a small ball with her arms folded belligerently. "It's cold."

Ryou couldn't have known that she wasn't exactly lying when she said that. He didn't know that she could feel the spirit, lurking at the edges of her consciousness, and that the only thing that kept it at bay was her will and his physical proximity. He didn't know that, like last night, being this close was the only thing that banished the voice of her tormentor completely. Whether it was due to the spirit's reluctance to emerge with another mind around, or some sort of natural talent he had for banishing evil ghosts, it didn't matter. Bakura saw no reason to tell him.

Nonetheless, it certainly didn't seem cold to Ryou. In fact, he felt rather warm at the moment, particularly around his face.

"Do… do you want me to get a blanket?" he asked, voice shaking.

"Just shut up," she snarled softly, pressing her ear against his shirt as if to block him out.

Ryou just sat there, stricken with confusion and muteness. There was a long pause, before he tentatively lifted his arm and set it around her shoulders. He didn't know what he hoped to accomplish with that, but she didn't throw it off or snap at him. Despite her indifference, he was afraid to even inhale too loudly. It was as though a man-eating tiger had chosen to snuggle against him, and he was torn between enjoying the warmth and praying for his life.

But still, this was nice…

He glanced down at her face. She looked uncomfortable, even somewhat embarrassed and angry, but it was the desperation in her eyes that really made his pounding heart sink. Any joy he got from the contact was extinguished by the sadness that lined every inch of Bakura's form.

"Hey," he whispered after a stretch of silence, squeezing her shoulders, "We'll find a way to change you back."

Bakura closed her eyes and snorted, but curled up tightly against his side. "There's only two people who could do anything about this, and both are my enemies."

"Maybe we could ask the Pharaoh?" he asked cautiously, looking away, "I know you hate each other, but he's usually… usually a fair person, even to his foes."

Bakura looked up, narrowing her eyes at him for even mentioning her greatest rival. "This supposedly-just Pharaoh would punish me for using my powers at the drop of a hat. He hates that I still exist, particularly now. You want me to give him an excuse to destroy me?"

"We… we can explain that you were defending the Items. What Marik did to you is proof that you're innocent," Ryou looked back at her, hurt by the hatred in her eyes, even if it wasn't completely directed at him. He couldn't imagine the Pharaoh being so quick to judge, but then, how well did he really know the former ruler?

"He'd never believe us," Bakura whispered angrily, but it was somewhat forced. Ryou could see that she was desperate enough to actually be considering his idea. Somehow, that hurt as much as her anger.

"…I don't want all his idiot friends to know," she finally said, looking away.

"I think I could get him by himself. He may not be the nicest of people, but he is honor-bound. He wouldn't tell if I asked him not to," Ryou tried to assure her, hopeful this would be that something he could do for her. He didn't consider his futile gestures of affection much help.

He was completely unaware how much he'd already done.

Bakura lifted her head to look up at him. She seemed torn, pushed to the brink by the events of the last few days. He had offered her hope, and the look in her eyes told him that she might just be taking it.

Ryou's free hand moved on its own. Bakura possessed him again, but with no conscious effort. His fingers came to rest on the side of her face, inches away from her scar, and slid into her hair. They made their way to the back of her head and coaxed it forward, cradling it slightly. Complying, the thief set her head against his neck, and he once again used her as a pillow. This time, though, he was fully aware of what he was doing.

Ryou justified his action – and Bakura, her acceptance – by rationalizing that things would be back to normal soon, and these few moments could be swept under the rug and forgotten.

_Well, _Ryou thought,_ Bakura can forget if she wants._

He knew he wouldn't.

They remained like that until their dinner was delivered.

xxxxxxxx

Ryou shivered as he stared down the darkening street. He was only a few blocks away from the game shop, and there were plenty of streetlights and bright signs, but he was nervous. The Pharaoh was naturally somewhat intimidating, and Ryou knew he hadn't made things any easier by acting suspicious. The former king had sounded standoffish on the phone, but had agreed to meet him alone. The last few days had obviously been stressful on both of them.

After he and Bakura had finished supper, Ryou called him and told a story about how he had information concerning the Rod. Bakura had helped him craft the lie, and had listened carefully to the phone with him, whispering the most persuasive words into his ear. He knew he never would've been able to convince the Pharaoh to do anything on his own, but somehow, when she did that, he found it very hard to concentrate on what they were supposed to be doing… He shifted on his feet and shook his head. There were more important things to mull over.

Bakura stood in the shadows, out of the light. She didn't want the Pharaoh to see her more than he had to, if she could help it, and Ryou only knew she was in there because he'd seen her enter. Her stealth skills were as keen as ever.

Part of him was deeply afraid that Bakura was right, and that the Pharaoh would try to punish her with his Puzzle. Ryou wasn't sure he could knock out the Pharaoh quickly enough should it come to that, though he'd certainly catch him by surprise. None of his distant friends knew of his abilities as a fighter, and as imposing as the Pharaoh was, Ryou was physically larger. It would just be a matter of –

Ryou stopped that thought, disturbed. He really didn't want to hurt the Pharaoh, but he didn't want him to hurt Bakura, either. Fear tingled in his stomach. As deep-seated as his pacifism was, his desire to protect her was almost basal, and if it came down to it, he knew the latter would win. He prayed to whatever gods available that the king would be reasonable.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted Ryou's anxious imaginings. He looked up and saw the familiar silhouette of the Pharaoh several yards away.

"Good evening, Ryou," the wild-haired boy greeted him in a tone that was diplomatic, but not truly friendly. "What's this information you wanted to share with me?"

"I, um," Ryou glanced at the shadows that concealed Bakura. She wouldn't be able to help him at the moment. "I… I have proof that Bakura didn't take the Rod."

He saw the Pharaoh's eyebrows dip downward in irritation. "Go on," he allowed, but there was an unspoken warning in his deep voice. Ryou was already on thin ice.

"He… he did break into the museum, yes, though it was only to see the Items. He'd gotten angry and left my flat, and… well, anyway, he met Marik in there, trying to get the Rod. Bakura fought to protect the Items – in a Shadow game," Ryou looked over at the Pharaoh to see his reaction, but the ruler's face was stoic. "But… he lost."

The Pharaoh folded his arms. Ryou grimaced slightly. He could tell he wasn't completely buying Ryou's story. "If that was true, the thief would have been sent to the Shadow Realm. If he was there, Ryou, why did you prevent us from searching his room?"

"Because – because Marik did something different to him," Ryou countered quickly, mentally berating himself for letting his nervousness slip into his voice. "He didn't send Bakura anywhere. He took away his powers, and... changed him."

"Changed him?" The King of Games raised one eyebrow.

"He made Bakura… um… smaller, and, uh…" Ryou fought for how to explain what had happened without revealing Bakura's secret.

The Egyptian's irritation grew into tightly-contained anger. "I've wasted enough time here," he started, "I don't understand your need to try and defend someone who has wronged you so deeply, with lies nonetheless, but--"

"He's not lying, _Pharaoh_," an equally angry female voice spoke up from the shadows and surprised both of them. Bakura stepped forward, hands balled into fists, and stood beside Ryou. "Do you suppose I did this to myself?"

For once, the king of games was rendered speechless, his anger faltering.

"Yes, it's me, you gawking fool," Bakura seethed, and Ryou almost stepped away to give her a wider berth.

The Pharaoh scowled slightly, "This must be some kind of trick. I don't know what you're up to, thief, but you won't get away with--"

"Won't get away with _**what?**_" Tufts of her hair seemed to rise like hackles, "Get away with being humiliated by some mad spirit of hatred that _**you**_ could not dispose of properly? Get away with being falsely accused by _**you**_ and all your half-witted friends, because I was doing what you were too lazy to do?"

The Pharaoh did step back, and opened his mouth to defend himself, but she continued. She smacked her chest, right around where the Ring would have been. There was no jangle, but only the hollow flap of disturbed cloth.

"You'll notice I am not wearing the Ring. This is because you failed at your last penalty game as well," she growled mysteriously, "And I assure you, if you do not rectify what Marik did and give me back my powers and form, you will have much, much bigger problems than _him_."

Ryou blinked, wondering what she meant by that. He'd had no idea Bakura was without her Ring, and its absence had a huge significance – but he wasn't exactly sure what that significance was. What could be a bigger threat than Marik…?

The Pharaoh also seemed slightly confused, but he quickly composed himself, speaking coolly. "I could eliminate any potential problems by doing what he did not, then, and imprisoning you where you should've gone long ago. You broke your oath to never use Shadow magic again!"

Both Bakura and Ryou bristled at that, and Ryou felt himself tensing. The Pharaoh raised his hand, authoritative and unimpressed. "But, if this indeed the work of another and not some sort of deception, I sense that you have been punished _enough_."

Ryou let out a quiet sigh of relief, but Bakura still looked ready to attack him, her face twisted into a furious snarl. She was shaking with rage.

"You must have swallowed a great deal of pride to ask me for assistance, and to reveal your loss. I am impressed," the Pharaoh kept going, "But I cannot help someone until I can completely trust them, and I'm afraid I can't say that for you."

He looked at Ryou pointedly. "Either of you."

With that, he turned and started to leave, completely unruffled.

Ryou stared at his retreating form. Was that it? He was just going to leave? Ryou had only anticipated two outcomes; him either helping, or trying to punish her. This took him by surprise. Something about the cool, dismissive confidence – even arrogance – in the Pharaoh's tone set him off. A strange feeling gripped his chest, not unlike the one that'd taken him over when confronted with the boys at the mall.

Bakura let out a sharp, infuriated sound and whirled on her heels. She was probably going to go after Ryou, next, but she blinked and stopped when she saw his face. Ryou suddenly brushed passed her, before standing tall in an aggressive pose.

"You are a liar!" Ryou shouted at his back, challenging him to turn around.

The Pharaoh froze in his tracks and slowly turned around, incredulous. "What did you say?"

"You are a liar," Ryou repeated, short on breath from the emotion wracking him, "of the highest caliber. You're a hypocrite!"

He saw the Pharaoh squaring his shoulders, both confused and offended. "This is completely out of--"

"You have no idea how miserable she's been!" Ryou shouted, now, waving a hand in Bakura's direction, too upset to use the right pronoun, "You don't know how much pain this has caused her! All the time you spend talking about friendship and forgiveness – it must apply only to those you happen to find worthy!"

"Ryou, what's gotten into you? Do you even know who you're talking about? This is the thief--" The Pharaoh was too surprised by the outburst, and was interrupted again.

"Do you have any mercy at all?" Ryou's tone became half as loud, but twice as angry.

"Not toward people who continually try to kill my friends and put the world in danger!" the shorter boy countered, becoming equally indignant, "You of all people should understand."

"If I can forgive her, then anyone should be able to," Ryou muttered, just barely audible. It was difficult to sustain his rage. He wasn't used to it, and he could tell the Pharaoh's will could not be bent.

Ryou quieted down, and the Pharaoh stood there for a long moment, before narrowing his eyes slightly.

"That's because, Ryou, obviously," he intoned, "you're still under the thief's control."

The Pharaoh turned and disappeared around a corner.

Ryou glared hard at the ground, his breathing shallow. Tears threatened at the corners of his eyes. He'd failed. He hadn't been able to help her after all.

He felt a thin hand come to rest on his lower arm.

"I told you, Ryou," Bakura's voice spoke in a quiet, almost comforting tone, but he couldn't look at her.

Ryou's features relaxed into a look of guilt. He looked down at her out of the corner of his eye, and felt a cold tear run down the side of his face.

There was no victory on Bakura's face for being right, or anger at him. She actually looked touched, obviously unused to anyone defending her.

He looked away again and mumbled a choked-up apology.

"Stop that," she ordered softly. He felt her fingers reaching up and pushing some of his hair back. "He deserved every word of that. You tried."

Ryou's eyes wandered back down to hers, his gaze filled with shame. Trying wasn't good enough. He hung his head, leaning into the touch of her fingers.

_I swear,_ he promised her silently, _I will find a way to fix this._

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Bakura's heart almost stopped when she woke up, and could not recall when or how she had fallen asleep on the couch. She'd heard Ryou wonder the same thing far too many times after she'd borrowed his body.

But slowly, her memory returned to her, and she relaxed. She had just fallen asleep again, her body trying desperately to adjust to her haphazard sleep schedule. It hadn't been the spirit. It was late, and after the encounter with the Pharaoh had been a miserable failure, they'd returned home, dejected. Ryou seemed to take the encounter even harder than she had, but then, she had sincerely doubted it the Pharaoh would help them in the first place. Ryou had still trusted him.

Either way, they had exhausted the last option she could think of. She ran her fingers through her hair, swallowing. The breasts, she could get used to. But she needed her powers back…

As she blinked into awareness, she became aware of the chill that was in the apartment. Where was Ryou? After they'd returned home, she went back to the couch, and he sat with her. But this time, he was sullen and silent, and didn't look anywhere but his lap. She remembered cursing the Pharaoh, since she had really preferred the earlier, hopeful version of Ryou. She'd never admit it, but the way they'd become situated had, for the first time in eons, made her reluctant to retrieve a steak…

The thief shoved that thought aside before the spirit heard and decided to mock her, and stood up. She scanned the living room and kitchen before heading down the hallway. Bakura pushed the bathroom door open with her fingertips, then the door to Ryou's room. Both rooms were empty. Heart rising to her throat, she checked her own bedroom, which was also vacant.

Where would he go now, at this time of night? She cursed herself for not telling him about the spirit. At least then, he'd know he couldn't leave her alone.

_Tsk, feeling lonesome? There's no need for that. __**I'm**__ always with you…_

She stopped in her tracks and felt the cool metal pendulums against her skin once again. Sure enough, the Ring was back, without any human intervention.

Bakura grabbed for it quickly, ready to tear it off again when a sudden knock at the door startled her. Standing her ground, she looked between the Ring and the door, not certain which to deal with first. The knock had apparently startled the spirit back into retreat, though, so she hesitantly went for the door. That had to be Ryou.

She stormed over to the door, relief giving her the strength to be angry. She turned the handle and yanked the door open, already railing at him, "Stupid boy, why'd you go run off in the middle of the--"

Bakura lifted her head, and was surprised to find herself addressing a rather well-endowed set of breasts.

"Ring keeper?" A vaguely familiar and equally surprised feminine voice sounded somewhere above the breasts. Bakura looked upwards.

She recognized the faces of the two Egyptians that stared down at her. The breasts belonged to Ishizu, and the tall man that stood behind her in stoic silence was Odion. They must have come seeking information about their deranged brother.

"Yes, it's me, tomb-robber, thief, Ring-keeper, spirit of the Ring--" she paused on that last one, but continued, raising her lip, "It seems Ryou is the only person with enough brains to remember that I actually have a name."

"My apologies, it's simply…" Ishizu bowed her head, speaking cordially, but still seemed confused.

"If you want to know why I'm suddenly of the feminine persuasion," Bakura interrupted and folded her arms, "ask your damned brother."

Ishizu sighed, her shoulders sinking. "I see. He's already begun the Shadow games again, just as I feared."

"As for his whereabouts, good luck. Not even the Pharaoh will believe he's back in town, and frankly, I'd rather not know where he is," Bakura sounded irritated, but she was quietly grateful. Perhaps these two would be able to round up Marik and set things back to normal. "He's got the Rod again."

"Then it's worse than I thought," Ishizu sounded downtrodden, but lifted her head to look at Bakura again. "Actually, we wanted to speak to you."

"Eh?" Bakura stopped her hand from closing the door in their faces. "Why?"

"Long ago, back when I had the Necklace, I received a vision of what would come to pass during these days. I understand the final confrontation between you and the Pharaoh sealed a great rift that had been torn by Shadow magic, but somehow, it also awoke our brother's split personality once again."

"I figured as much," the thief brushed off her explanation, but Ishizu continued.

"He eventually managed to escape us and traveled back here, we assumed, to try and revive his plans for conquest. Has the Pharaoh encountered him yet?"

"The Pharaoh does not want to believe that he might not have destroyed that spirit of hate as thoroughly as he thought he had," Bakura narrowed her eyes, "He refuses to consider the possibility that anyone besides me stole the Rod. Perhaps you should pay him a visit."

"We will, soon. But… My Necklace told me no specifics, so we were unable to plan in advance for this event. However, one of the visions it revealed involved you. At least, I think it did."

Bakura raised her eyebrows. Now she was interested.

"The Necklace showed me what looked like the final confrontation. My brother's plans have gone far beyond what they were before. He plans on enticing the Pharaoh into battle, and losing purposefully, so he may bind his soul to the Rod, just as you were and the Pharaoh were bound to your Items in ancient times. He feels this will make him unstoppable…"

Bakura looked up, and put on a slight sneer. She didn't even want to give the fiend's sister the knowledge that she was afraid of him. "So he plans on emulating me. Is that the extent of my involvement?"

"No." The Egyptian suddenly looked more grave than usual, "I saw that someone would interrupt his plans, and fight him in place of the Pharaoh. That person was… I thought it was you, but now I'm not so certain. I think the Necklace was confused and unable to differentiate between you and your former host…"

Ishizu trailed off, and barely noticed the fact that Bakura had suddenly gone very still. "Is something wrong?"

Only the thief was aware of the hidden implications in the Egyptian's vision. She suddenly knew exactly where Ryou was.

"That _idiot!_" Bakura yelled out suddenly, causing both Ishtars to jump slightly. "Out of my way!"

Without explanation, she bulled past both of them and ran out into the hall.

_Well, this could make things interesting. Would you like me to use the Ring to point you to your beloved vessel? Or to Marik, so you can intercept him?_

Bakura paused at the end of the hall, pulling the Ring out of her shirt and almost considering this. "I'm in no mood for your treachery!"

_Oh, well. It really doesn't matter which one I lead you to, now… But I'll be a sport._

Horrified, she watched one of the Ring's pendants lift, and she sped off in that direction.


	13. Breath of Ghosts

**Author's Notes:** This chapter contains a duel! Aahhghhgff. Don't worry, if you can follow the duels in the series, you should be fine with this one.

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_I hear the breath of ghosts_

_Hiding behind the wind_

_Like an icy choir exhaling_

_A promise to rescind_

_I hear the breath of ghosts_

_Whisper in my ear_

_With every drooling syllable_

_It preys upon my fear_

_I hear the breath of ghosts_

_Slowly fade away_

_With ever decreasing frequency_

_As colors change to gray…_

~ Assemblage 23, 'Breath of Ghosts'

As Ryou's sneakers pounded against the shadow-strewn pavement, he almost stopped to think about how incredibly foolish his plan was. Almost.

But he had started mulling over this idea the second it became obvious that the Pharaoh would not help them. Bakura had said there were two people that could help her; if one failed, he decided, it was natural to try the other. Even if that other was a deranged Egyptian.

Ryou did not expect Marik would comply with his wishes; he fully intended on fighting. He wasn't as sure in his ability to overtake the larger, Rod-wielding man without the element of surprise, but he had brought his deck with him. Physical fighting wasn't what he had in mind.

After he and Bakura had gone back home, he had briefly turned on the news under the pretense of distracting himself. In truth, he was hoping that there'd be a story that detailed the last known whereabouts of the stranger terrorizing Domino. For once, luck was with him. When Bakura fell asleep, one look at her face, twitching at half-realized nightmares, was all it took to convince him to challenge the tomb-keeper.

Ryou passed by the site of Marik's last attack. There were police questioning bystanders, and paramedics loading mysteriously cationic people into the back of an ambulance. He used his powers of introversion to render himself invisible in the crowd, staring at the ground and hunching his shoulders as he crossed the street quickly. Marik couldn't have gotten too far away by now.

He went around a few blocks, following only his gut and ducking away from the patrolling police cars, feeling a bit criminal for slinking around. Nevertheless, he didn't want a well-intended officer to stop him for questioning and slow him down.

Ryou finally spotted the tall, cape-swathed form of his target. He was walking down the street with several of his mind slaves, chatting jovially with them, even though they were silent and their motions jerky and zombie-like. Ryou set his jaw. He tried to dwell on the same well of courage that'd allowed him to tell off the Pharaoh, but it was harder against a man that was much larger and far less tolerant.

"Marik!" Ryou shouted as bravely as he could and pulled out his deck, "I challenge you to a duel!"

He came nowhere close to the level of intimidation the Pharaoh managed to instill in those words.

Marik's mind slaves acted first, turning around like dolls on strings, moving to protect their master. He then slowly turned, with a grin already on his face. Marik waved off his mind slaves dismissively, stepping forward.

"Well, look who it is," he chuckled, setting his chin against the Rod, "The thief's pet boy! What's the matter, don't you like what I did to your master?"

"I want you to change him back," Ryou demanded quietly, refusing to be intimidated as the larger boy approached him.

"Hmm, hmm… now, why would I do that?" Marik twirled the Rod, "Personally, I much prefer him this way – but then, perhaps you're more inclined towards men."

"Just fight me!" Ryou bristled, shuffling his deck to distract his nervous hands.

Marik laughed and shook his head. "Touching, but I really have more important things to do than waste my time on love-struck mortals. In fact, since I'm in a good mood, I won't even kill you for distracting me."

Ryou watched him turn and start to head back down the street. Why had he figured that Marik would take him seriously? He sought for something to say, something that would make the Egyptian mad enough to fight him – then his eyes fell on a nasty bruise on the back of Marik's neck, from the comatose-inducing blow Ryou had landed during their last encounter.

"…I see I left quite a bruise," Ryou noted, forcing his voice to drop into the sly, dark tone Bakura always used while in his body.

Marik stopped. His head craned around again, but this time, there was no grin on his face. "You were the one who did that?"

Ryou allowed himself a slight smirk. Trying to emulate Bakura gave him a strange amount of confidence. "Unless you'd like me to give you another one, I suggest you not turn your back on me again."

Marik growled an inhuman sound, gripping the Rod tightly as he removed his deck from his back pocket. "You asked for this, boy," he hissed, narrowing his dead eyes.

Ryou's smirk broadened. It felt alien on his normally sweet face, but part of him was genuinely happy. He was afraid, too, of course, but that part was overwhelmed by his drive to fight for Bakura.

Possibly because his fear of Marik was outweighed by his fear that he did, indeed, like what Marik had done to her. It made him feel as though he had an obligation to help her get changed back.

He was getting too attached.

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Yugi stared at the moon that hung low in his window. He couldn't sleep. There was a buzz in the air, something he couldn't identify as anything other than creepy. He'd felt the same the night the Rod was stolen…

He may not have had any magic powers like Atem, but he had been the holder of the Puzzle long enough to have a sense for dark magic. The small boy glanced over at the floor, where the Pharaoh lay on his makeshift bed. Sleeping on the floor of Yugi's bedroom was the best compromise he could come to; it was sufficiently close to his partner without truly invading his space.

"Pharaoh?" Yugi asked quietly, reaching out and shaking the slightly larger boy's shoulder. He was a little hesitant to disturb him. The former ruler had come home in something of a mood, after leaving mysteriously. It wasn't like him to not at least tell Yugi where he was going, but he hadn't said anything before he left, or after he returned.

"Mh? What is it, Yugi?" Atem sat up slightly, rubbing one of his eyes.

"Can you feel that?" Yugi murmured, glancing out the window.

The Pharaoh furrowed his brow in puzzlement, before his eyes widened in realization. "A Shadow game!"

He stood up quickly, pulling his Item around his neck. "Come on. We have to stop this!"

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Sure enough, they came to a dark stretch of street with an unnatural black cloud cloaking several dozen yards of pavement. But it was dissipating even as they ran up to it, and soon revealed the only remaining participant.

Marik shook his head, chuckling as the black wisps of fog curled around his cape. There was a deck of cards lying scattered on the ground several feet away.

"You!" Atem balked, but stood in front of Yugi protectively. "The thief wasn't lying!"

"Oh? Well, good evening, Pharaoh. It seems I'm getting to meet _all_ of my old friends tonight," Marik laughed to himself, "Shame that the last one had to _leave_ so quickly."

The Pharaoh's puzzle was already glowing. "I'll fight for the freedom of whoever you sent to the Shadow Realm, you monster," he growled, and his hand went for his deck –

"_Out of my way!_"

An angry, female shriek startled him, and a blur of white shoved him aside bodily. The Pharaoh stumbled, and all eyes turned to the enraged girl that was suddenly among them.

"Where's Ryou?" Bakura demanded of all of them, a dangerous fire burning in her eyes. The Ring was around her neck this time, and seemed to glow with malevolence.

"Ryou? Oh, the boy," Marik shrugged, "I can't say which part of the Shadow Realm I sent him to. I wasn't really paying attention."

"Brother!" Ishizu and Odion weren't far behind Bakura, but they both kept their distance. They knew to be wary of their possessed sibling.

Atem was confused. He had been certain he had gotten rid of Marik's dark side. He looked at the other tomb-keepers for explanation, but Bakura's infuriated voice interrupted him before he spoke.

"You will fight me, you bastard," Bakura seethed at Marik, running over to Ryou's cards and gathering them up, "Right now!"

Marik laughed again, folding his arms, "I'm so popular tonight. I'm honored, but really, I don't care to--"

"You should_ listen to my host, young spirit._"

Everyone stopped and looked at Bakura once again. Atem clutched his Puzzle. He could feel the presence of an incredibly dark force, one that made Marik's black aura pale in comparison.

A dull look overcame Bakura's face, and her eyes went blank. Her voice had become deeper and distorted all of the sudden. She froze, swaying in place slightly, before a strange grin curled across her lips.

"_I am sure you don't care about your host's siblings,"_ the distorted voice continued, and she cocked her head. The Ring glowed. _"But I'd wager that __**he**__ does."_

"What are you getting at?" Marik scowled, looking confused and perhaps a bit intimidated. He felt the same thing as Atem. "Your bluff doesn't fool me. I eliminated your powers, girl--"

"_The girl is no longer speaking."_

Bakura's head bobbed slightly. She was like a marionette being puppeteered by someone lacking the patience for elegance. Atem stood closer to Yugi. Bakura must have been right about that, too – he hadn't managed to get rid of her darkness completely, and sensing her weakness, it had come back with a vengeance.

"_I have my reasons for wanting to fight,"_ it continued, using Bakura's voice, _"So why don't I give you some? Two, to be precise..."_

The thief's slim hands motioned skywards, and two dark forms burst out of the ground, directly behind Ishizu and Odion. The undead duel monsters, made very real by the Ring's magic, lurched towards the older Ishtars and set blades and bony claws against their throats. They struggled, but they were without any Items and powerless.

For once, the smirk was wiped from Marik's face. Something seemed to flash in his eyes, a glimpse of his true self breaking through. His face twisted slightly, distorting into an angry grimace, and he started to thrust the Rod forward – before yelping and dropping it, doubling over to clutch his hand.

"Tomb-robber, stop this!" Atem went for the Puzzle, but it seared his hand too, and he had to throw it to the ground before it burned through his shirt.

"_Idiots,"_ Bakura's head was tilted back, and her light, feminine laugh sounded disturbingly sinister, _"The same hate and blood that fuels those Items is precisely what gives me my strength. Do you really think you can use it against me?"_

Marik shook his head, the spirit forcing himself back into control. He snarled and picked up the Rod, ignoring the pain. The dark fog started to coalesce around them once again. "Very well then, whatever you are. If you wish to join your former vessel so badly, I'll _oblige_."

Bakura's body suddenly jerked, as though her strings had been cut, and she stumbled back into awareness. She looked distinctly unsettled.

The Pharaoh could only watch as the darkness enveloped both thief and grave-keeper once again.

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"Here we find ourselves again," Marik sneered, "Only this time, you've brought a friend, I see."

Bakura steeled herself against the cool wind that blasted from the Shadow Realm, shifting her glare from Marik to the spirit that hovered behind her. "Why did you assist me?"

"_Simple, pretty vessel,"_ the spirit purred, _"I want you to lose so I can have your body. Unlike you, I hardly care about the details of the body I inhabit."_

"What a friend!" Marik laughed, glancing down at his deck. He still held the hand from his duel with Ryou. "But even I feel two against one is a bit unfair. And besides, I wouldn't want to make the duel too rough, seeing as I'm fighting a _lady_. I am quite the gentleman, after all--"

"Enough of this!" Bakura snarled, quickly taking out her deck and drawing a handful of cards.

"Tell you what," Marik began, glancing down at his hand, "I'll make this simple. Your vessel actually put up quite a fight. He got me all the way down to 800 life points and destroyed most of my monsters. If you can destroy the one monster I have left – just one – I'll give you back everything taken from you. I won't even reset my life points."

Bakura bristled at the insult to her dueling skills, but remained alert. He was setting the conditions of a Shadow game. He could not lie or rescind. There had to be a catch, though. "And if I don't?"

"Then I think that spirit will get his wish," Marik smiled.

"What about Ryou?" She narrowed her eyes, gripping her cards tightly.

"If you lose, you'll be able to spend all eternity with him in the Shadow Realm. How romantic," Marik chuckled, tilting his head at one of his cards in particular. "Though…"

"Just go!" Bakura hissed around the knot of anxiety building in her throat and stomach. What kind of monster would he risk an entire duel on? Had he managed to get his God card back? Was it something as powerful…?

Either way, a quick glance at her hand eased her fears. Her deck had been good to her, and had already given her Destiny Board, along with Cyber Jar, Dark Necrofear and Earl of Demise. Unless this monster could finish off her 8000 life points in less than five turns, she had already won. She grinned slightly, "Let's see this all-powerful monster you have."

"Very well then," Marik's grin matched hers, and he lifted the monster card, revealing it. She squinted. It had the orange card of an effect monster, and she blinked as she recognized the art on the card.

Shining Angel? That was a weak monster, with only 1400 attack points and its effect only kicked in when it was destroyed. Even then, it was nothing more impressive than letting the user summon another Light-type monster in its place, and Marik had said he was out of monsters. She furrowed her brow, and he set it down in attack position.

"I see that you're confused, thief," his grin widened, "Were you perhaps expecting the Winged Dragon of Ra? No, this card will be much, much better than that. Why, I think you'll be flattered…"

A white glow formed in front of Marik, slowly taking the shape of the angel on the card. One pair of golden wings uncurled from the monster, then another set unfurled, revealing it completely. Bakura paled, and the spirit behind her started laughing.

Ryou blinked and squinted at the dark clouds enveloping them. Dark as it was, it was bright compared to where he _had_ been.

"Bakura? I… what's that behind you? What's going on--" He yelped when he turned and saw one of the large golden wings sprouting from his back and holding him aloft.

"I took a page right out of your own book, thief!" Marik cackled, insanity creeping into his voice, "A fitting tribute, I think, to such a lovely woman. Your move."

"No!" Ryou struggled, wings flapping uselessly. He couldn't move from attack position.

Bakura stared in disbelief for a long moment, before shaking her head. She drew quickly; Dark Hole. That wouldn't work, but she could still win this duel without hurting him. "A nice trick, but useless. I play--"

"Ut," Marik interrupted her, showing her the other card in his hand, "Destiny Board won't help you now. My other card is Heavy Storm – it'll just obliterate your magic cards. Goodness, you're such a cheater. I've already made things so easy for you; is it so much to ask for you to _try_ to win fairly?"

Bakura panicked slightly. She couldn't summon Necrofear or Earl of Demise without tributes, and Cyber Jar's side effect sent all monsters to the graveyard. All of her wonderfully destructive monsters and trap cards were suddenly the last things she wanted. The thief closed her eyes and steeled herself. Perhaps her next draw would be more helpful.

"I end my turn," she muttered quietly.

"Giving up already? Where's that fighting spirit?" Marik lowered his head, "You know what this means. Shining Angel, attack her _directly._"

Ryou protested, struggling harder, but he was forced to lurch forward. "No! I won't hurt her! You can't--"

But he was unable to break free of Marik's command, and he came at her, fist pulling back. His punch connected with her jaw and sent her reeling.

"Bakura!" Ryou cried out, and tried to reach for her, but since his attack was over, he was drawn back to his side of the field. "No," he croaked, wings curling slightly.

Bakura stumbled back to her feet and rubbed her jaw, tasting blood in her mouth. She had no idea her vessel could hit that hard. It brought her life points down to 6600 and left her with the slightest feeling of betrayal. Marik was laughing.

"It's not his fault," she muttered to herself and drew again. She became tense. Raigeki wouldn't help her either. She inhaled raggedly, shuffling her hand, "I… end my turn, again."

Ryou's eyes went wide, and she looked away from him, but stood her ground.

"Cards not being kind, are they? Or is it that they're being _too_ generous?" Marik taunted, then motioned forward, "Well, time for another attack. Shining Angel, knock some _sense_ into her."

Ryou wailed, but was once again propelled forward against his will. He struck her in the cheek, hard enough to leave a bruised welt that forced her right eye closed. Bakura was unable to hold back her cry of pain this time.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered helplessly, tears streaming down his face.

"You know, according to the boy's memories, those same fists used to snap concrete blocks," Marik noted casually, as if sharing a bit of interesting trivia, "I'm afraid your pretty face doesn't stand a chance."

Bakura clutched the tender side of her face, her heart racing. It went against everything in her being to allow herself to be attacked like this, but she would not be made to destroy Ryou. She hadn't let Marik destroy him before, in the fight against Pharaoh and his Sky Dragon, and she wouldn't let him now.

The spirit leaned down, whispering in her ear. _"This is all a bit familiar, isn't it…?"_

Unbidden, memories of the nightmare she'd had about Ryou rose to the surface of her memory, conjured by the spirit's will. _"Heh heh. Let's hope he sticks to punches, mm?"_

"Get away from me!" she snapped, her voice slightly muffled by her swollen lip. She knew the spirit was conspiring with Marik, trying to unsettle her, trying to make her so desperate that she fought back. The draw of her next card didn't help, either. Mirror Force. It wouldn't destroy him instantly, but it would destroy him.

Nevertheless, she refused to bow to them. She still had 5200 life points.

"I end my turn," she hissed, and Ryou cried audibly now.

"Really, now, I expected more from you," Marik let out an exaggerated sigh, "To think, I once admired you. I might even call you a bit of a role model. Don't I ring any bells? A powerful Egyptian man, full of hatred and bent on revenge…"

Bakura looked up at him. She ignored the spirit and narrowed her one good eye, "You are nothing like me."

"Oh, not now, certainly! But back then," he grinned darkly, "we might as well have been cut from the same cloth. But I digress. This is so easy it's becoming tedious. Shining Angel, why don't you see if you can break her nose this time?"

He did. Her head cracked back, and Ryou was spouting gibberish now, begging her to fight back but too choked up to speak properly. Blood trickled from her nose, and blackness pooled around her formerly good eye.

Bakura shook her head, vision filled with stars. The pain in her face was becoming unbearable; her head rang, and her neck ached from being snapped back three times, now. Her footing was shaky, and she fought to keep a grip on her cards. She had endured far worse beatings in the past, but never in a body as weak as this one – and never from someone she trusted so much.

"_You're not doing him any favors by letting him live,"_ the spirit hissed softly, and his voice seemed to swim around her head, _"If you lose, I'll get your body, and what use do I have for such a weakling? I'll kill him first. I'll stab him over and over--" _

Bakura found a sudden strength in a new wave of rage, and she peeled her lips back in a fearsome snarl, even though the motion strained her damaged features. "You will not touch him!"

"_Oh, it won't be me anymore. I'll be __**you**__. What would he do against __**you**__? He loves you so much he'd __**let**__ me carve him up!"_

Her rage wavered in the face of growing fear. She was in a catch-22. If she destroyed Ryou, he'd be sent to the card graveyard, and a mortal like him would be destroyed instantly in such a place. Not even the Pharaoh's magic would bring him back. But if she lost, the spirit would win. Desperate, she drew, and cried out in frustration. She was down to 3800 life points and she had drawn Trap Hole, a card that would've been useless even if it wasn't destructive.

"_Besides, if you do win, you'll be me again anyway. He said he'd give you back everything you lost if you destroyed the boy – that includes what the Pharaoh's game took away. We'll be __**one**__ again. You'll have all that strength __**and**__ your own body again! Absolute freedom and power! That is what you want, isn't it…? Aren't you getting a bit tired of failing all the time? We'd be unstoppable…"_

"I end my turn!" Bakura shouted above the poisonous promises of the spirit, trying to shut him out.

"Tsk." Marik glanced at his deck and drew a card, examining it. He grinned slightly, "I play Forceful Sentry. Show me your hand, thief – or rather, show us."

Bakura blinked, wondering what the purpose of that would be, but complied. In her fingers was a destructive spread that, under any other circumstance, would've been a great hand. It seemed like fate was mocking her along with the spirit and Marik.

Marik snickered. "Get rid of Trap Hole – I want him to see the other cards. See, boy? She can destroy you any time she likes. You'd better start hitting her harder if you don't want to die!"

Ryou paled slightly, but shook his head. "Bakura, please," he swallowed, "Use your cards. I don't want to hurt you anymore…"

"Be quiet," she growled, but it was forced. She'd never seen him look so torn and broken before.

"Go on and hit her again – aim lower this time," Marik commanded with wicked glee. "Attack!"

Ryou flew forward, coming much nearer than he had previously. She blinked up at him with one bleary eye as his wings cast shadows on her, strangely comforted by the brief closeness. He looked away in utter guilt.

Bakura's eyes bulged slightly as he punched her square in the stomach, knocking the breath out of her. She doubled over, gasping and nearly dropping her cards as she fell to her knees. Her strength was being sapped, and her life points had fallen all the way to 2400. Hope rapidly left her along with it, the familiar sting of inevitable defeat sinking into her chest.

She drew again, unable to get up off her knees. Man-Eater Bug. Tears of pain and desperation threatened in her eyes. Bakura didn't even have to announce the end of her turn, this time; her hanging head made it obvious. The spirit was laughing, loudly, happily. He could smell victory.

Marik rolled his eyes. "This is _pathetic_. You look like an abused dog. Shining Angel – kick her like one."

Bakura didn't look up in time to see Ryou's roundhouse kick come at her head, but she certainly felt it. She fell to one side, barely catching herself with the hand that held her cards. Her arm shook, and she swayed. The shadows of the game seemed to grow much darker, and it was so tempting to just fall down and give in to them, to let them win…

What could help her now?

"Good thing one more hit will finish you off. This duel isn't even good for a laugh at this point," Marik snorted.

He was right. She was down to 1000 points. She distantly heard Ryou's voice, sobbing as he pleaded for her to destroy him. Faintly, she heard the spirit laugh and start to boast of the things he would do when he had her body. She sensed him heading over to Ryou to taunt him specifically.

Bakura barely managed to lift herself back to her knees, fingers trembling as she reached for her deck once again. They came to rest on the next card, and it took more force than she expected to pull it off the top of the deck and draw it into her hand. Wearily, she looked down at what she'd drawn, certain it'd be another useless monster or trap card…

She blinked.

Ryou was running out of hope himself, when suddenly, he quieted his sobbing. He was the one who heard it first, and he glanced over at the thief in disbelief. But soon, it was loud enough for Marik and even the spirit to hear.

Bakura was laughing.

It was not a mad, desperate laugh brought on by the shock of defeat. It wasn't a bluff to try and confuse them. It was a real, genuine, _victorious_ laugh, the kind of laugh she hadn't been able to have in a very long time.

She lifted her head with a sudden fire in her eyes, and a defiant grin on her otherwise broken and scarred features.

"I play," she wheezed, slamming the card down on the field with the last of her strength, "_Change of Heart!_"

The smirks that had been on both Marik and the spirit's face suddenly disappeared. In their absence, a smile spread over Ryou's face.

Marik stepped back. "What? No!"

Ryou spread his wings and flew over to her side, spreading his wings in front of her protectively. She smiled weakly. This seemed familiar, too. She was hunched over as he had been, and his wings were spread as her arms had been in the face of the god dragon…

"Destroy them, Ryou," she ordered quietly, "Destroy them _both."_

Ryou complied, wings lifting him high, before he swooped down like a hawk. He slammed into Marik with all the strength of his rage, and his attack sent out a wave of blinding light. It slowly engulfed Marik's side of the field and caught the spirit as well, chasing away all the shadows.

A howling wind rushed over the field and muffled the screams and protests of the spirits. Marik's life points fell to 0.

As Ryou's attack dissipated, the shadows of the Realm suddenly zeroed in on Marik, before rushing to swallow him, moving like a swarm of enraged insects. The shadows were hungry, and made hungrier by their joy to have captured _two_ victims instead of one. In the face of their bloodlust, even the spirit's dark power wavered for a fleeting moment. It was long enough for him to be devoured.

Suddenly, the shadow game was over, and Ryou suddenly fell back to the earth, normal again. He quickly scrambled back to his feet and ran over to where Bakura had fallen.

"Did it work?" she asked in a voice that was little more than a groan.

He kneeled down beside her, and without a second thought, scooped her up into his arms. "You won," he congratulated her, tears of happiness following the streaks of their more desperate forebears. It was only diminished by the fact that all the damage he had caused had carried over into the real world, and her face was a mess.

She curled up and pressed her bruised and bleeding face against him, muttering. "You idiot."

He laughed quietly, downright happy to hear her call him names for once. Ryou held her tight and set his head against hers, his tears trickling down to her face.

The spirit's words echoed in her head, though she knew it was her own memory, and not the spirit speaking them.

'_He loves you so much…'_

An unusual warmth replaced the physical pain, making it minor, bearable, unimportant. She reached her shaking arms up and set them around his neck.

She supposed it was no coincidence that his soul's card that had saved her.

xxxxxxxx

Bakura slowly became aware of some of the activities around her. She felt a strange, weightless sensation, before she realized Ryou was carrying her.

The two Ishtars had been freed, the monsters the dark spirit had summoned destroyed after the duel was over. They had rushed over to the collapsed form of their brother, and were smothering the confused, dazed - but now normal - boy with hugs.

Ishizu composed to herself and explained the situation to the Pharaoh, and they exchanged nods. Simultaneously, they looked over at Ryou and Bakura. The thief had just enough energy to glare at the former king.

He approached them, his head lowered slightly. "My… apologies," he sighed, "I should have had more faith in you. Ryou… _thief_… I will see if I can help you, now."

They both perked at that. Maybe it didn't matter that Marik hadn't turned her back. Ryou had started to set her down, when a confused sound from the Pharaoh made them pause and look up.

"What's going on? The Puzzle, it's," he held the pyramid in his hands, looking at it at every angle, "It's… dead."

"What?" Bakura scowled, but felt her own Item. She hadn't been startled at the lack of its magical energies since she had grown used to their absence, but now she could sense absolutely _nothing_. No magic, no power, and thankfully, no spirit.

The Pharaoh quickly walked over to Marik and picked up his Rod. "The Rod, also… there's nothing here, anymore. It's just gold."

"What's the meaning of this?" Bakura sounded suspicious, still gripping her own Item and glaring down at its limp pendulums. To be cut off from her own Item was bad enough, but for all of them to suddenly 'die'…?

"I believe it means, Thief King," Ishizu stood, stepping away from her brother and leaving Odion to console him, "that you have finally succeeded in putting the souls of your family to rest."

Bakura just blinked up at her, uncomprehending.

"With the dark side of my brother banished, along with the manifestation of your own hate, the unbalance in our world brought by the Shadow Games was corrected. Everything that didn't belong in this world was finally expelled," Ishizu met Bakura's gaze, then moved to the Pharaoh, "The games are over, and the ninety-nine spirits that fueled the power of the Millennium Items are now at peace."

"So everyone's Items…" Yugi started, poking the Pharaoh's puzzle curiously.

"Nothing but ancient metal, now," Ishizu finished, smiling.

It took a while for the news to register for Bakura. She'd… _won_? Not just the duel, but she'd finally finished something that had tormented her for so long, for over three millennia?

She hadn't killed the Pharaoh. She hadn't gathered all the Items. She hadn't even had any of her occult powers. The time when she was at her weakest, lowest point, deprived of all the things she'd always depended so much upon, was the time she had won.

The thief laughed in quiet disbelief. She hadn't been powerless.

She had never needed power to begin with.

It was finally over. The spirit, the voice, her eternal tormentor – was gone. No more stupid Shadow games. No more monsters, ghosts, and nightmares. No more dark magic. A long-deserved sense of relief filled her and further eased any pain she felt, but it would take weeks for the revelation to really sink in.

"But you didn't change back…?" Ryou's uncertain observation interrupted her thoughts, keeping his eyes on her. They were large, brown, and so deeply concerned that she felt somewhat embarrassed to look into them.

She realized that there also meant there was no way to get her old form back.

"No, I suppose I wouldn't," Bakura conceded, wincing. It hurt to talk. "His condition for changing me back was to destroy you. That was… unacceptable."

Ryou said nothing, but she could feel his smile on her, and his arms tightened a little. If she'd had any more energy, she would've snapped and told him to put her down, but she was exhausted. Besides, she was still holding his neck.

"Just take me home," she murmured, closing her eyes and settling her face against his shirt.

She couldn't see him, but she knew Ryou was still smiling, and they left the Pharaoh and the Ishtars behind to deal with the aftermath. Bakura had done enough.

Home.

She hadn't had one of those in a long time.

And if this was the price for a home – for peace – for Ryou – well.

For once, she was willing to pay instead of steal.

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**Author's Notes:** Most of the cards Bakura and Malik use in the duel are now illegal and would never, ever come up in a 5Ds-era duel. But a quick run down of each card and its effect:

Bakura's cards:

**Destiny Board: **The oujia-board card set Bakura uses in his duel against Yami / Slyfer in the Battle City tournament.

**Man Eater Bug: **An Effect monster that can destroy one monster on the field when it's flipped up from face-down position.

**Raigeki: **Destroys all monsters on the opponent's side of the field.

**Trap Hole: **Destroys a summoned monster that has more than 1500 attack points.

**Mirror Force: **Upon activation, it destroys any monster on the opponent's side of the field that is currently in attack mode.

**Earl of Demise: **A Normal monster that requires a tribute summon (eg, a monster already on the field)

**Dark Nercrofear: **An Effect monster that can't be summoned without 3 Fiends in your graveyard.

**Change of Heart: **You oughta know what this one does! Allows the user to take control of one monster on the opponent's side of the field for one turn.

**Cyber Jar: **An effect monster that destroys all monsters on the field when it's flipped up from face-down position.

Malik's cards:

**Shining Angel: ** An Effect monster with 1500 attack points.

**Heavy Storm:** Destroys all magic and trap cards on the field.

**Forceful Sentry: **Forces the opponent to show you their hand and allows you to pick one card to discard from their hand.


	14. Spin

_Everything I know has let me down_

_So I will just let go_

_Let you turn me inside out_

'_Cause I know I'm not sure about anything_

_But you wouldn't have it any other way_

_And the world keeps spinning 'round_

_My world's upside down_

_And I wouldn't change a thing_

_I've got nothing left to lose_

_Lost it all when I found you_

_And I wouldn't change a thing_

_No, you and I_

_I wouldn't change a thing..._

-- Lifehouse, 'Spin'

Bakura stared up at the stone tablet that held the Items. Once again, there was a chill in the room, but this time, it was only from the temperature.

Night had fallen again as well, but tonight she and Ryou entered the museum through the front entrance. The guards let them past once Ryou had explained their intentions. They had eyed Bakura suspiciously, the girl's face and hair oddly familiar… but it was obvious she was not the man who had broken in several weeks ago and remained at large.

Bakura smirked slightly. They would never find him.

Ryou stood beside her, waiting. Her eyes wandered over to him, and he smiled as if to reassure her. Instead of the indignation she expected to feel, she found herself by smiling back for a fleeting moment. Bakura sighed and shook her head. She really _was_ going soft.

The days after the last battle with Marik had been spent readjusting to life. Luckily, her new body was as resilient as the last one, and all her physical wounds healed with nary a trace that they were ever there. Ryou had a hand in that, since he spent every waking moment tending to her, changing her ice packs, supplying medication and bandages, and cooking her favorite foods every night. At first, she loathed having a nanny, but she came to enjoy being waited on hand and foot.

A few times, as he had scurried around doing his best to please her, she had stopped him and roughly warned him that he had better not be doing this out of guilt. His eyes would sadden, his head would drop, and he finally explained that he didn't just feel guilty for the bruises he had inflicted, but for the fact it was his fault she was stuck in her new body.

Bakura had grabbed his chin and forced him to look her in the eye and growled, "If I can deal with it, you can too."

And Bakura dealt with it fairly well. She had let Ryou and Serenity take her shopping again, though she hadn't enjoyed it any more than she had the first time. Ryou had been teaching her how to read, and she was picking it up swiftly. He helped bridge the gaps in her understanding left by the fragments of his memory that she still possessed. She also spent long hours considering her new life – that all her past obligations were only memories, that she was finally free to live a normal life without either haunting or being haunted.

It was somewhat strange to digest the fact that she was now a _woman_, but really, she reflected, being a woman was less strange than being an incorporeal being, and she had been one of those for three thousand years. True, she missed having magical powers at her beck and call, but she had lived once without them. She could live without them again. Besides, such a mundane existence brought a challenge and risk back into life that she had not seen in a long time.

Without the hope that she would be able to revert back to distract her, Bakura had gone from bemoaning her condition to doing what she always had when faced with the inevitable – adapting. With this change in attitude, what had seemed like defeat suddenly became a challenge.

_Certainly, you were the King of Thieves when you had strength, spirits, monsters, and powers,_ Fate seemed to say, _but can you still be a thief, when all you have now is your hands and your wits? Can you be a __**real**__ thief?_

Though she was loath to admit it, Bakura knew she and the Pharaoh were similar in one respect. Neither of them could resist a challenge.

When she had regained enough confidence and learned as much as she could about the new world she lived in, she started to sneak off when Ryou was away at school. She could not yet will herself to go out at night alone, but she found that she didn't need to. Her first few attempts at thieving were remarkably successful. Manipulating people proved even easier in this form, too.

The body she had hated so much was finally starting to show some of its advantages. Very few people, it seemed, suspected attractive young women of _anything_. Besides that, she was light, small, and thin. She could bend in ways and get into places she never could have previously. She had gone from being a tiger to a house cat, and though she might have been less dangerous, she was much sneakier and much less conspicuous. She found a thrill in thievery once again, one that she hadn't even been aware that she was missing. Stealing when you knew you could simply will anyone who caught you into the Shadow Realm hadn't been half as _fun_.

So far, Bakura had kept her crimes small and low key, little more than minor shoplifting and pick-pocketing. What she stole wasn't so different from what she had taken as a male, but what she did with some of the goods she pilfered was a radical departure.

Ryou had, more than once, been quite surprised to find his favorite candy bars or a rare Duel Monsters card he'd been wanting for his collection in his backpack. He asked Bakura about them, but she feigned ignorance, and she was a good enough liar that he believed her. He soon learned to stop questioning the odd gifts.

But of all the trinkets and jewelry in her steadily growing collection, Bakura's eyes kept being drawn to one piece in particular. The Ring would stare at her, no matter where in the room she tried to hide it. It was a constant reminder of what she had given up, of an existence she had started to _want_ to put behind her. The Ring had been an inexorable part of her being – had _been _her being for so long – and it seemed to be accusing her of treason for wanting to leave it behind. Its cold presence reminded Bakura of so many conflicting feelings and memories that it robbed her of her good moods as deftly as she had robbed shopkeepers.

Ryou seemed to notice. He had also picked up on the newfound sense of freedom she had been cultivating, and the more she came to appreciate her new life, the less guilty he looked around her. Recapturing the joy of thievery had made Bakura realize that good moods and been a rare thing for _both_ of them, and now it seemed like their moods were linked. If she was happy, he was happy, and that, strangely, made her happier.

Maybe she felt some guilt, too, for everything she had done. Seeing the boy happy was new and strange, and she liked it more than she wanted to believe.

But if she wasn't happy, he sat close to her, touched her shoulders, looked at her with concern in his big brown eyes – all privileges only he was allowed, and he didn't even realize it. There were walls Bakura took down only for him, and it seemed like more came down every day. He was the only one who had earned the right.

It was lead her to confess that the Ring bothered her in as few words as possible. He had said something about closure, and they had decided it was time for another trip to the museum.

Bakura shook her head out of her memories and looked down at the Ring. She grasped it in her thin fingers, in hands that, though once alien, were starting to become familiar. She looked down at it past breasts which, while still cumbersome and strange, were easier to get used to than she would have guessed. Her eyes flicked back towards Ryou, and he complied with an order that she didn't even know she had issued by setting his hand on her back.

She reached up and slowly set the Ring into its niche, carefully setting each pendulum into the notches carved for them. The Puzzle was already below it, and the Rod was already beside it. Her hands moved with a sense of finality, and when they finally pulled away, she was unprepared for the sense of relief that washed over her. Bakura felt herself smiling again, but felt no inclination to fight it this time.

It was over. She no longer needed this cold museum as her sanctuary.

She had a new one.

As they turned and headed back towards the entrance, Bakura glanced up at her former host. He hadn't removed his hand, and once again seemed completely unconscious of his actions.

"Landlord."

Ryou blinked and looked over at her, a questioning look on his face. The corner of her smile became a slight smirk. He responded to all her old pet names for him as readily as his real name. She had been tempted to stop calling him by them, after the spirit of the Ring had reminded her of the darkness in those words – but both she and Ryou seemed to realize that she meant no longer had any malicious intent in those nicknames. In fact, they had almost become… affectionate.

Besides, it was too much fun to startle him by sneaking up on him and whispering them in his ear.

"You never finished reading that fantasy book to me," Bakura noted, and her smile lost the smirk, confidence staggering for a moment, stolen by what seemed like fleeting shyness. She had enjoyed that night more than she wanted to admit. And the morning after…

But the wide, innocent grin on Ryou's face reassured her, and he nodded. "Want me to read more after dinner?"

Bakura nodded slightly, tilting her head. "You could read beforehand, too, if you ordered out instead of cooking."

She had liked _that_ night too. Despite what she tried to convince herself, the steak was not what she remembered the most.

Ryou's arm slid around her to squeeze her – another subconscious movement, she guessed, since he seemed distracted by grinning like an idiot and nodding. Bakura chuckled and let him remain unaware.

Though the spirit was gone, being close to him chased away any other, more personal and less magical demons that might threaten in the back of her mind, and she still saw no reason to tell him.

Maybe she would someday, but right now, she didn't mind the amicable silence and warmth. It reminded her that she was alive.

Again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Author's Notes: Well, I hope you enjoyed this. :D

YOU CAN READ ABOUT THEIR CONTINUING ADVENTURES IN THE SEQUEL, which I am still editing / trying to continue / will be posting to FFnet shortly.


End file.
